


So Near and Yet So Far

by exclamation



Series: The Long Way Round [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dragons, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sort of Sterek (not much Sterek actually happens in this installment in the series), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exclamation/pseuds/exclamation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to A Little Lost. </p><p>Derek's sister has been murdered and his boyfriend vanished into thin air right in front of him. Now Derek must face the future alone with only fragments of knowledge about what lies ahead. One thing he is certain of is that if Stiles goes back in time, he will disappear. Derek is determined not to let that happen. </p><p>Meanwhile, the creature known as Bookworm searches for answers as to why Stiles disappeared. And why a trace of his power remains... carrying with it the howl of a wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolf Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the second part in a trilogy, following on from the events of A Little Lost. It will probably make a lot more sense if you read that story first, but here is a summary of the salient plot points of that story if you want to just jump straight it with this one. 
> 
> After the end of season three, Stiles was in the woods with Scott, fighting some annoying, furry, flying creatures. During the fight, Stiles picked up a stick which turned out to be a magic wand and accidentally sent him back in time and to New York. There he met Derek and Laura, and he ended up living with them using the fake name of Adam. In his time there, he got in a relationship with Derek, learned to use magic, made a magic wand (out of mountain ash, which means werewolves can’t touch it), got a job in a magic shop, accidentally started a coven at work, got some magic tattoos (you may be seeing a pattern here), made a protection amulet as a present for Laura, and created a magic snow storm while singing like a Disney princess (that’s not actually relevant to the plot of this part, but I had a lot of fun writing it). 
> 
> He also met a creature called Bookworm, who looks like an ordinary woman until she gets angry or decides to eat someone. She is actually a dragon with the ability to read information about people’s souls by reading books they’ve read. She became very interested in Stiles to the point where Laura got extremely suspicious. So suspicious, that she decided to go back to Beacon Hills alone, instead of taking Derek and Stiles with her, kicking off the events of the series. In the end, all things happened as they did in the pilot episode and Adam/Stiles vanished into thin air, dropping his magic wand in the woods and not quite managing to warn Derek about Peter. 
> 
> Derek came to the conclusion that if Stiles goes back in time, he’ll die, so Derek chooses to keep Stiles at a distance in order to keep him safe. 
> 
> All this brings us to this story, which kicks off right after the end of A Little Lost, about half-way through the first episode of Teen Wolf. This, the middle part of the trilogy, will be following along with events of show. I will be using episode names in the chapter headings and notes to make it clear when these events are taking place as there may be some quite bit time skips.

There was a werewolf nearby who had murdered Derek’s sister and stolen her powers, making him a force to be reckoned with. Derek had it on good authority that the new alpha was dangerous because he’d been told as much by someone who’d come from the future. The time traveller, who’d given his name as Adam for reasons that had seemed sensible at the time, had known Derek, had lived through the events that Derek was now about to face. Alone. 

Derek had known that there was danger coming, but he’d thought he’d face it with Laura and Adam by his sides. He hadn’t thought he’d have to face an alpha werewolf on his own. He didn’t even know who he was. 

Except… Adam had been trying to tell him something. His very last words to Derek had been: _I love you. Protect Scott. Don’t let us awaken the nematon and if we do then kill me before anyone else gets killed. Peter..._

He’d never had a chance to finish that last sentence. He could have been saying almost anything, but Derek suspected that his last words had been an effort to tell him something important. He might have been saying that Peter could help him somehow with stopping this alpha. Or it could have been a warning that Peter was the one he had to fight. 

He needed to know. 

He knew the address of the facility where his uncle was living because Laura had spent the past six years paying the bills for Peter’s care. It was easy enough to find it and he went in daytime, giving his name at the front desk and being accepted in as visiting family. It was all very public. Derek hoped that would make it safer, but he wasn’t going to believe it. 

He went into the little room and saw a man sitting in a wheelchair, facing away from the door. It was such a vulnerable position. For a moment, Derek allowed himself to think that if Peter was the killer, Derek could just walk across the room and slash him apart. He could get his revenge. 

But Peter didn’t move. Derek listened to his heart, hearing the slow, steady beat, a perfect rhythm. Derek scented the air, hoping to pick up on the subtle signs that indicated strong emotions, but there was nothing. No emotion at all. Just cleaning products mixed in with hospital smells. 

“Uncle Peter?” Derek asked. Peter didn’t move. Not a flicker of a muscle. Derek edged closer, ready to fight if he had to. 

Why had Adam mentioned Peter? Because he was a threat? He didn’t exactly look like one now. Because he was in danger? Was someone trying to kill off all the Hales, finish what had been started in the fire? Because he might know something? 

Derek saw the angry, red scars on Peter’s face. He saw blankness in his expression. Peter looked like an empty shell, but Derek had to be sure. 

Derek let his claws lengthen and stood in front of Peter. He brought his claws up so that Peter could see them, waiting for some sort of reaction. Fear? Surprise? Confusion? Anything? There was nothing. 

“Laura is dead,” Derek said. “Your niece has been murdered. By a werewolf.” 

Nothing. No change in heart rate. No shift in muscles. Not even a flicker in his eyes. 

“Did you kill Laura?” Derek asked. 

Again: nothing. 

Derek had been ready to rip his uncle’s throat out if there was the slightest hint that he’d been the one to kill Laura. Somehow, this stillness was worse. Peter was still breathing but he wasn’t doing anything else. There was no person behind those eyes. The man he’d been was gone, leaving only this empty thing behind. 

“I’m going to kill the person who killed her,” Derek said. Adam had said he would, so he knew there was a way. There was no reaction from Peter, neither fear nor gladness. 

He walked out of the room and went back to reception. 

“I was wondering,” he asked the woman there, “if he’d had any other visitors.” 

The woman checked her logs. “Yes. The day before yesterday. A young woman who said she was his niece.” 

“And he hadn’t gone anywhere since then?” 

A nearby nurse had heard the question and gave a bitter laugh, “That man hasn’t been anywhere in six years.” 

He gave them his phone number and instructions to call him if anything changed, or if anyone came here looking for Peter. Derek was next of kin, the only living relative left. They didn’t argue with him. 

***

The creature known as Bookworm locked up her shop once again. It felt like she’d gone outside more in this past year than in the previous century, all because of one human, barely more than a boy. She needed to do this though. She needed to understand. Understanding was all she was and the fact that she didn’t understand this burned her inside. Adam was supposed to be ouroboros, the closed circle. He wasn’t meant to just disappear and take his power with him, the power that had been growing day by day with the promise of becoming something incredible. Now that promise was broken. 

So Bookworm crossed the city, to the magic shop where Adam had worked and learned. Where he had friends. She reached the shop just as they were closing up for the night, as she had intended. The woman, Amelia, was just pulling down the blinds, the door already latched, but she opened it up for Bookworm when she approached. 

“Can I help you with something?” Amelia asked, politeness not quite masking the fear. 

“I would like the assistance of your coven,” Bookworm said. 

“We don’t have a coven. We have magic workshops.” 

“Whatever name you choose to give yourselves, you have performed magic with Adam. You have formed a circle with him.” 

“Yes. Why? What’s this about?” 

“Adam is gone.” 

Amelia hesitated. She gave a confused and worried look at Bookworm. 

“When you say gone...” she began. She faltered. She continued. “Is he dead?” 

“I don’t know,” Bookworm admitted. “I don’t like not knowing. That’s why I want to use your coven. You have been connected to his magic.” 

Amelia had gone pale. “He didn’t show up for work today but I thought he was still... ill.” 

“His power has gone,” Bookworm told her. “I can no longer sense him.” 

Amelia leaned back against the shop’s counter, staring into the middle distance. Her eyes sparkled slightly with forming tears. Bookworm wasn’t sure how to deal with that; for all her knowledge, dealing with crying humans wasn’t an area of expertise for her. 

“I was making enquiries about getting him apprenticed to a real wizard,” Amelia said. “I hadn’t told him because I didn’t want to get his hopes up if nothing came of it, but he has such talent. Had?” 

Bookworm didn’t say anything. She didn’t have any words that would take away this pain. Amelia looked back at her, meeting her gaze with tears still unshed. 

“If he’s missing,” she said, “we’ll do what it takes to help find him. He’s a good guy.” 

Bookworm nodded. She read a little of Adam’s soul, seen the pain and guilt written there along with the desire to do right. He’d yearned with a need to help others, to protect, to erase the mistakes that had been made. He’d woven the need to protect into the very heart of his magic. 

Now it was his turn to be protected. 

***

Protect Scott. That had practically been Adam’s last wish. Actually, his last wish had been for Derek to kill him if something happened with the nematon but Derek wasn’t going to think about that unless he had to. Right now, he had to deal with the fact that there was a new werewolf out there and a full moon was rising. 

Derek tried to think of everything Adam had told him. There had been random comments from time to time and now he struggled to fit them together, hoping he hadn’t forgotten something important, but there had been one point that had stuck in Derek’s mind. Adam had told him that he kept Scott from hurting Allison on the full moon. Maybe this was a way to get Scott on his side, so he’d help finding the other werewolf. He would watch from the shadows and wait for the right moment to play the hero. It was manipulative, Derek knew, and he felt more than a little ashamed for coming up with this plan, but Adam had told him more than once that he couldn’t face the other werewolf alone. 

It took only a little bit of effort to figure out where Scott lived, based on the information Adam had given him. Derek made his way there, arriving just in time to see Scott getting into a car and driving off. Derek drove along behind him, keeping to a distance where he needed werewolf sight to keep track of the other vehicle. A human wouldn’t have noticed him; he had to hope that Scott wouldn’t either. Scott pulled up in front of another house and a girl got into the car. That must be Allison. They drove off again and Derek kept up his hunt. 

Their destination turned out to be a party. Music and people spilled out from a nice house in the suburbs of Beacon Hills. A load of teenagers were dancing and talking. Derek parked up his Camaro a little way down the street and then made his way to the house, sneaking round the back because this wasn’t a party he’d been invited to, looking for Scott among the people. 

Derek saw him and was seen, but Scott was more interested in his date. Derek surveyed the crowd of happy teenagers, making his way round to the edge of the garden where he could watch and keep an eye out for Scott. There were far too many people. The full moon would be rising soon and Scott would have no idea how to control his wolf instincts. Allison wouldn’t be the only one who needed protection if Scott transformed here. Derek needed to find a way to get him alone. 

“Oh, hey. Derek, right?” 

It was like hearing the voice of a ghost. Derek turned and saw Stiles standing there. He didn’t look the same as Adam: he was younger and his hair was shorn into a buzz cut. But he smelled the same. Seeing him standing there, cheerful and so utterly oblivious, was like a punch to the gut. 

“Sorry about the whole trespassing thing,” Stiles went on when Derek didn’t speak. “We didn’t realise we weren’t meant to be there.” 

Derek didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to speak. He was too focused on reminding himself that this wasn’t Adam. He couldn’t just grab this guy and kiss him and make him promise not to disappear again. 

Stiles, naturally, didn’t let Derek’s silence stand in the way of holding a conversation, “I didn’t expect to see you here. Most of the people here at Beacon Hills High School and you’re not. Obviously. But I guess that doesn’t stop you having friends. I mean, I assume you have friends and you’re not just hanging out randomly with a bunch of teenagers. That came out wrong. Sorry. Look, I’m just going to stop embarrassing myself and go get a drink.” 

Derek just stared, swept up in the torrent of words, carried back to memories of New York and listening to Adam ramble randomly about whatever came into his head. It felt like the memories were taunting him, reminding him of the connection he used to have with Adam that he no longer had with this kid. 

“Well, nice talking to you, Derek,” Stiles said. “You’re one hell of a conversationalist.” 

Stiles wandered back into the house. Derek stared after him, cringing at his own awkwardness. He should have said _something_. Stiles probably hated him now. Half a second later, he reminded himself that that was what he wanted. If Stiles stayed away from him, stayed away from werewolves and this life, then he’d stay safe. 

Derek turned his focus back towards Scott, who was dancing with Allison. He had to stick to what he’d come here for. 

Derek felt the moment when the moon began to rise, the power singing into his blood, like a fire ready to blaze. He felt his body wanting to change, wanting to release the animal within. He saw Scott stumble away from Allison towards the house. Derek moved quickly, skirting the house and seeing Scott hurrying towards his car, Allison following, looking hurt and confused. 

This was Derek’s moment. He just needed to appear a little less scary than when he’d been freaking Stiles out a few minutes earlier. He faked a smile and walked up to Allison, pretending to be a friend of Scott’s and offering her a lift home. 

She agreed surprisingly readily. Derek felt like he ought to spend the journey giving her a lecture on getting into cars with strangers. Instead, he just turned up the heater and made a point of asking for directions; he didn’t need her to know that he’d followed her earlier. 

The trick with the heater worked and she pulled off her jacket. Scott would be running on pure animal instincts now under the influence of his first full moon. One of the core animal drives was lust. If Derek could get hold of something of Allison’s, something that carried her scent, he could lure him somewhere safe. Protect Scott, Adam had told him, and Derek intended to do just that. 

***

The magic shop’s coven was a sorry affair comprised of amateurs and dabblers. Neil and Amelia, the shop’s joint owners, were the only ones with any real spark of talent and even that was a feeble light. Bookworm didn’t tell them that though. Right now, the connection to Adam mattered more than the amount of magical power they could generate. 

The humans were standing around the shop, chattering to each other, checking phones, or just giving Bookworm suspicious looks. She hadn’t seen most of them before, but one or two had come to her shop searching for information as they delved into the world of magic. She was aware of her reputation though. Knowledge was power and, in this city, those who looked into the supernatural elements of the world made a point to know who had the most. 

It was Amelia who called the group to order, “Thank you all for coming. It seems that Adam is… missing. We’re going to do a spell to try and find him.” 

“A tracking spell?” one of them asked. 

“No,” Bookworm said. “Form a circle.” 

“Please,” Amelia added. 

They had moved some of the display tables to one side to create a clear space near the front of the shop. The little group moved into that space now, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. Bookworm took her place in the circle, with Amelia on one side of her and Neil on the other. These two would have the closest link to Adam and so Bookworm would need that. 

She had brought with her the few items she owned that still held a trace of Adam. There was the magic book she had loaned him, a book of love spells he had experimented with, a novel he had given her in order to get Christmas presents for Derek and Laura, and, most importantly, a little note he had written himself. There were just a few words, a hastily scribbled handful of sentences. Each of them held a little piece of Adam’s soul, an echo of who he had been. She opened the books to pages she’d selected earlier, ones where he had invested considerable attention. Then she held out her hands towards Neil and Amelia. 

For a moment, she considered performing the spell like this, so avoid trouble. She’d seen enough times the way humans reacted to her true self. She had no desire to repeat those experiences now that humans could get hold of more effective weapons than swords and crossbows. But she needed to find Adam, so she couldn’t hold back from this spell. 

She let her hands shift. Fingers extended into claws. Smooth skin rippled and changed until armoured scales covered it. Beside her, Amelia shuddered to find herself suddenly holding a dragon’s claw, but she kept her grip. 

“Let us close the circle,” Bookworm said, and sent a whisper of her will through the joined hands. She felt it join with their wills, touching the sparks of their power and igniting into a brighter fire. She felt along that connection, reaching for the faint trace of power from the previous times they’d closed a circle as a group, the soft echo of the joined power. 

Her eyes were on the books, drawing in the traces of Adam left there, reaching for the similar thread. She found it, like a strand of cobweb woven through the circle, thin and fragile. She touched it gently with her power, using infinite care because two much could snap that thread and she would lose all chance to find him. 

She breathed a little of her power into the thread and whispered. 

“Adam,” she whispered, “Stiles.” The two names he had chosen, the identities he had given himself. “Stilinski.” The name of his family, of his origins, of what had brought him into being. “Hale.” The name of his pack, the family that had welcomed him into their midst. Then she whispered another name, barely more than a breath, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear. She whispered his true name. 

The thread of his power vibrated, singing to the sound of that name. Bookworm closed her eyes and followed the sound inside her mind, letting her soul flow along that thread, around the circle and then beyond. Her spirit soared into the darkness to that place, miles away, where his magic had last blazed. 

She saw the echoes of his spirit. Echoes twice over. His soul had been here twice, in Adam and in the younger Stiles, reflections of the same being. The two had come too close, like matching ends of a magnet coming together, and the force had been enough to repel one of the reflections. The one who had been Adam had been flung away from the one who was Stiles. Flung where, Bookworm couldn’t see for sure, but she could hope. 

She could trust though that one who had been Adam hadn’t been destroyed. 

She glimpsed the one who was Stiles, but it was hard to see him in the darkness. He hadn’t even a spark of power at this point. 

There was something else there though, something nearby that held the tiniest trace of Adam’s power. Bookworm tried reaching for that, but it was fleeting, fragile, a ghost of a ghost of a ghost. Each time she thought she had found it, it eluded her, but she was finally able to brush her power against it. She felt the familiar touch of Adam’s magic, but it was mingled with something else, some other power. 

In the darkness of the spirit world, Bookworm heard the howl of a wolf calling out for her pack.


	2. Second Chance at First Line

Stiles had looked at him with fear in his eyes. He’d looked at Derek like he was a monster and the back of that police car had been filled with the scent of fear. Derek wanted to break down and cry, but he couldn’t, not right now. Because now the cops were looking at Derek like he was a murderer. Derek sat in the little interview room, the sheriff sitting across from him, asking him questions. They’d searched the old house and brought his belongings, such as they were. And Adam’s. 

The sheriff gave Adam’s passport and driving license a puzzled look. The photos were small and hopefully the superficial differences, like Adam’s hair, would be enough to keep the sheriff from working out who those photos were actually of. 

The sheriff started off with the usual questions, expected from years of watching TV shows. He asked where Derek had been at the time of the murder. Derek calmly asked him what time the murder had taken place, and then gave the answer. 

“On a plane from New York,” he said. 

“Not a bad alibi, if you can prove it,” the sheriff said, “but it’s rather suspicious when someone has two sets of ID on him.” 

“Those aren’t mine,” Derek said. 

“Then whose are they?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow, “Read the name. Adam Smith.”

“And where is he now?” 

“It doesn’t matter. He was on the same flight as me. He’s not your killer.” 

The sheriff appeared to accept this line of reasoning because he changed tactics, asking instead about Laura’s body. 

“Why did you hide the body?” he asked. 

“I didn’t hide her. I gave her a decent burial.” 

“Why?” 

“She’s my sister.” 

The questions continued for what felt like forever. Why had he come back to Beacon Hills? Why had his sister been here? Exactly what flight had he been on? Did he know that hiding a body was interfering with an on-going investigation and could be considered a crime? Did he know anyone who would want to hurt Laura? 

For the most part, he tried to answer honestly, but he was not planning on telling the sheriff that Laura had been murdered because someone wanted to steal her alpha werewolf powers. The questions started to repeat. No doubt the sheriff wanted to check that his answers were consistent. He came back several times to the passport. Who was Adam? Why would he leave his ID with Derek? Derek couldn’t exactly answer those questions honestly, so Derek stuck with what he could say: he didn’t know where Adam was. 

The sheriff was also interested in the book of protection spells. Derek’s hands clenched into fists of their own accord but he kept them hidden beneath the table of the interview room. He didn’t want this man to see how angry he was, even when he was thumbing through a book that had belonged to Adam, hinting with his questions that maybe Laura had died because of some satanic ritual. 

“That book’s Adam’s,” Derek said. “He was interested in that stuff.” 

“Was?” the sheriff asked. Derek kept his face calm. He didn’t show his annoyance at being caught tripping over tenses. 

“Yeah. Back in high school, he did a paper on magical beliefs in different cultures and he got really into it for a while. He bought a bunch of books, but he kept that one because he thought it might be worth some money to the right collector. So be careful with it.” 

The sheriff didn’t seem ready to let the subject drop. He was also highly suspicious of the fact that no one seemed to have seen Adam. He made some comments hinting that they might need to start searching the woods for another body, probably trying to see if Derek got nervous at that. He couldn’t know that Derek would have no reason to fear that threat. No one would ever find Adam’s body. 

And so the questions continued, circling round to motive and weapons. 

“Did you find any weapons in that house?” Derek asked. 

“No,” the sheriff admitted. 

Derek shrugged as though that was an answer to everything. He leaned back in the chair and tried to look bored, as though the only thing he had to worry about was the police wasting his time. 

At last, the sheriff wrapped things up, muttering about having a lacrosse game to get to. All Derek could do was sit there and hope that Stiles managed to convince Scott not to play. So far, his goal of protecting Scott wasn’t working so well; he couldn’t get Scott to listen to him at all. 

***

There was no blood on the pitch. No sign of chaos or destruction. No cops taking statements. So far, it was a good sign that Scott either hadn’t played or had managed to keep under control. Derek surveyed the pitch, almost deserted now, and let himself breathe a little. He’d been in a state of tension since the moment when he’d known the game was beginning. He couldn’t be completely calm though, not until he knew Stiles was safe. 

He had learned Stiles’ address and went there next. There were lights on downstairs, but the sheriff’s car was in the driveway. It looked like he was the only one home. Still, Derek didn’t think the sheriff would be this calm if Stiles had been hurt, so Derek decided to wait here, rather than attempt to track Stiles around town. Derek found a shadowy spot under some trees, across from the sheriff’s house, where he could wait and watch. 

It wasn’t long before a battered old jeep pulled up, two people inside. Stiles got out of the car, chattering about something, but Scott climbed from the passenger seat. He sniffed the air and then homed in on Derek. Derek was actually a little impressed at how quickly he was picking up the use of his new senses. 

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked. 

“He’s here.” 

“He? Who he? Oh my god! You mean, him?” 

Derek took a step from the trees. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles said again. 

“Stiles, go inside,” Scott said. 

“No way. I’m sticking with you.” 

“Stiles...” 

“If he tries anything, I’ll scream my head off and my dad will come out and shoot him,” Stiles said. 

Scott walked across the road towards Derek, Stiles a step behind, half-shielded by Scott’s body. Stiles looked ready to run at any second but he didn’t look hurt. Derek sniffed the air and noted the absence of blood. Stiles was alright. He’d needed to see this with his own eyes before he could be satisfied. But he couldn’t relax, because Stiles was standing right next to a new werewolf who didn’t have the slightest handle on his animal instincts. 

Derek should be keeping away from Stiles. He knew it was the only sensible action. But he couldn’t leave Stiles alone with Scott while Scott was a danger to them both. 

“You put a lot of people in danger tonight,” Derek told Scott. 

“It was fine,” Scott said. “No one got hurt.” 

Derek heard the racing of his heart, the lie buried under truth. 

“So you didn’t lose control, at all?” 

Scott didn’t look him in the eye. 

Derek continued, “Right now, you are a danger to everyone around you. If you do something violent, like lacrosse, you could lose control completely. You could hurt whoever’s close to you.” 

He looked pointedly towards Stiles. 

“Is that what happened to your sister?” Stiles asked. “Did you lose control? Did you kill her in some sort of werewolf temper tantrum?” 

There was such certainty in his voice. He wasn’t asking if Derek had killed Laura, just why. Adam had trusted Derek, but Stiles genuinely believed that Derek could murder his own sister. Derek couldn’t cope with that, with words of such cold distain coming from the mouth of someone who’d once spoken words of love. 

Derek tried to squash down the pain with anger. Anger at Adam for disappearing. Anger at the world for letting this happen. Anger at Stiles, for not being Adam. 

“Just don’t do anything so stupid again,” Derek told Scott, “or I will kill you to protect everyone else.” 

He turned and left, heading into the trees. He quickly dropped to all fours, shifting into his wolf form and running at a lope through the preserve, letting the ground disappear beneath his hands and feet. When he reached the house, he found the pile of clothes; the cops hadn’t been interested in old clothes. He picked up Adam’s shirt, buried his face into it, and cried as he inhaled Adam’s scent. 

***

Derek walked into the little hospital room because he didn’t have anywhere else to go or anyone else to go to. He had never felt so alone. Before, even when he’d lost everything, he’d had Laura. She’d always been there to comfort, to protect, to act as a surrogate mother or best friend depending on his needs. He hadn’t really thought about how much he needed her until she’d been torn away from him. He didn’t think he’d ever told her enough. 

“Hey, Uncle Peter,” Derek said quietly. There was no reaction from Peter. He was sitting in the same wheelchair as before, positioned by the window. From the smell of him, he was wearing clean clothes, but otherwise he looked exactly the same as last time, like he might not have moved at all. Derek assumed that the staff here put him into bed at night, but there was no other trace of life in this room. 

Derek turned the wheelchair around. Peter’s head lolled slightly from the movement. Then Derek sat down on the bed so he could face him. He stared at his uncle’s lifeless expression. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Derek admitted. “There’s an alpha werewolf out there who I don’t know where to find. I don’t even know where to begin. Then there’s this kid with new powers who is unbelievably reckless with them and won’t listen to anything I tell him. And then there’s Stiles.” 

Derek sighed, trying to think of how to explain all the things he was feeling. 

“I could handle the fact that he looks like Adam and sounds like Adam. What I can’t handle is the fact that he smells like Adam. I pick up his scent and I want to just rip his clothes off where he stands. But I can’t do that because he’s a sixteen year old kid who doesn’t even know me. Besides, his dad’s the sheriff and I’ve already been arrested once since I got back to town. I just... I know I should stay away from him. That’s the only thing to do, but I’ve got to look out for Scott and Stiles is just always _there_.” 

Derek stood up again. He paced a few steps to the window, stared out at the parking lot and the trees beyond. He turned back. His uncle was still staring towards the bed, where Derek had been sitting. Derek went back and sank onto the bed again. 

“I keep thinking that Laura would know what to do. Laura always knew what to do. And now she’s not here and I don’t even know why. Why did she come back on her own? And what happened to her amulet? She loved that thing. I don’t think I saw her not wearing it since Adam gave it to her. So why wasn’t it on her body? It just doesn’t make sense.” 

Derek dragged a hand over his face. He stared at his uncle, at those blank eyes. He didn’t know why he’d thought this would help, why he’d thought this would make him feel less alone. The only person he had to talk to was about as animated as a lump of rock. He wasn’t going to get answers here. He wasn’t going to get anything except a reminder that he had absolutely nothing else. 

He stood, muttering, “Thanks for listening, Peter.” 

He headed for the door. Then he hesitated. He returned to Peter and turned the wheelchair back towards the window. He didn’t think there was anyone in there looking out, but he might as well do this little thing. Just in case. 

***

Sometimes the most important type of knowledge was knowing who had the knowledge that was needed. Bookworm never claimed to know everything, though a person would be hard pressed to find someone with more knowledge in certain areas. There were other areas though in which she was discovering a critical lack. The subject of what happened to a human, or even part human, soul after death wasn’t one that had seemed particularly important to her until now. 

That was a lack she needed to remedy. Fortunately, it was a subject on which certain humans spent a lot of effort investigating. She found some religious texts claiming knowledge of the afterlife, which had been read with mixtures of fervent belief, fierce scepticism or uncertain terror. Bookworm read them now and picked up little that was useful to her current investigations. She needed to find someone who would have more relevant books. 

She returned yet again to the magic shop, leaving her hoard alone while she hunted for the wisdom it didn’t hold. Neil was working today and he greeted Bookworm with quiet caution. 

“Amelia told me you were trying to apprentice Adam,” Bookworm said, not bothering with pleasantries. 

“We thought it was a good idea,” Neil said. “The kid has talent, a pure instinct for magic that I’ve not seen before. He needs someone who can help him channel it, so we were asking around, asking our contacts and getting them to ask theirs, seeing if there was someone suitable who’d be willing to take him on.” 

Humans tended to focus their skills on a particular aspect of magic. Most of them had talents that leant in a particular direction and so they built upon that. True mastery of all elements required time that human lifespans just wouldn’t allow for. Neil and Amelia would have been looking for someone with skills similar to the ones that Adam had so far displayed, but there was still a chance they would have come across someone whose skills lay in another area. 

“Have you come across a magic user,” Bookworm asked, “who specialises in death and magic of ghosts and spirits?” 

Neil didn't answer at once. He looked away from her, grief clouding his features. 

“So he really is dead,” Neil said. 

“I don’t think so. Do you know someone who can help me?” 

He looked back at her again, clearly confused. She didn’t feel like explaining why she would need to investigate the spirit world; it wasn’t her habit to give away information for free. She just waited for Neil to give an answer. 

“I… I’ll ask around,” he said.


	3. Magic Bullet

“I don’t think you should be barking orders with the way you look. OK? In fact, I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.” 

Derek listened to Stiles' angry rant and all he could think was that he’d bought Adam soup from the good place when he’d been ill. After everything Derek had gone through with Adam, Stiles could sit there, looking so much like Adam but giving out death threats while Derek was bleeding. It hurt. It hurt worse than the poison that was seeping through his veins. Derek dealt with pain the only way he had been able to manage lately: by drowning it in anger. 

“Start the car or I’m going to rip your throat out. With my teeth.” 

Stiles didn’t react at once, but Derek heard the sharp spike of his heart rate. The scent of fear was evident despite the overpowering smell coming from Derek’s injury. Stiles started his jeep and drove off. 

“So where are we going to?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Derek said. He didn’t have anywhere to go. He was squatting in the old house because he’d spent his savings on that damn car and he couldn’t afford to live somewhere else. He didn’t have a safe haven, short of running back to New York and the apartment he’d shared with Laura. 

“So your grand plan is to just drive around town all night while you bleed to death in my passenger seat?” 

Derek wished he had an answer. He wondered if his brain was already succumbing to the poison. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have anything. Just a burning pain in his arm that was flowing to the rest of his body, and the knowledge that this guy would happily leave him to die. He missed Adam. Stiles might be physically the same, but he wasn’t the same person. Not by a long way. 

Derek shouldn’t have been surprised when, about half a mile on, Stiles started talking. After all, Adam hadn’t been very good at silence either. 

“So is this what Scott’s got to look forward to?” he asked. “Hunters with magic bullets and alphas ripping people to pieces in the back of a bus?” 

“It’s possible to live quietly and avoid notice,” Derek said, “but even that’s not a guarantee. Laura and I managed to avoid trouble pretty well when we were in New York, but a friend of ours still got taken by hunters once, just for being seen with us.” 

“What happened to the friend?” Stiles asked. He was as subtle as a hammer to the skull. He was clearly asking whether he would be in danger, just because of being friends with Scott. Derek didn’t know nearly enough about what would happen over the next couple of years, but he knew it was enough to make Adam wake up screaming in the middle of the night from recurring nightmares. 

“We saved him from the hunters,” Derek said, “on that occasion.” 

“On that occasion?” 

Stiles was watching the road, but he kept glancing road towards Derek. One the next occasion he did that, Derek met his gaze. 

“He’s gone,” Derek said. “This life is dangerous. I don’t have a choice about being part of it and neither does Scott anymore. You still do. You can get out. You can keep yourself safe if you just keep your distance from Scott. And from me.” 

“Believe me, I would love to keep my distance from you, but you make it rather hard when you collapse onto my jeep. But I’m not going to abandon Scott. He’s my best friend, my brother. I’m with him to the end.” 

“Even though you’re scared just sitting in the same car as a werewolf?” 

“That’s not the same!” Stiles protested, though he didn’t attempt to deny it. “You’re scary! You’ve got serial killer written all over you. Scott wouldn’t hurt anyone.” 

“He might.” 

“He won’t. We’ll figure out the whole full moon thing but I’m not going to stop being friends with him because of something that was done to him that he had no say in. That’s like… stopping being friends with someone because a random druggie went crazy and scratched them with a needle and they got HIV. Scott’s got an infection that wasn’t his fault so I’ll help him deal with it. That’s what real friends do.” 

Derek could still smell his fear, but Stiles spoke with such absolute conviction. It would be admirable if it wasn’t so stupid. Stiles was in no way ready to face the dangers that were coming his way. No wonder he’d end up waking in the night screaming. 

Derek wondered if he ought to give Stiles the book of protection spells. Maybe he could learn how to use his magic now and at least have some way to protect himself if Scott lost control of his animal instincts. Derek wasn’t sure how he’d bring the subject up though. Besides, he didn’t want to let go of one of the few pieces of Adam he had left. 

***

This time, Bookworm didn’t have to leave her shop. Amelia came to her. Bookworm set aside the book she’d been reading, a young child’s former favourite story, where the plot was lacking substance, but the pages laced with innocence and hope. It was the sort of read she needed to lift her spirits after all that had happened lately. She was still feeling that child’s hope when she looked towards Amelia. 

“Have you found someone?” she asked. 

Amelia pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket, but she didn’t offer it towards Bookworm. Instead she stood there, holding the paper between two fingers. 

“How much is this name worth to you?” Amelia asked. 

Bookworm smiled. It seemed that Amelia was losing some of her naivety. She knew the value of the information she held, though she might not fully comprehend the reason behind that value. 

“What would you ask?” Bookworm asked, her voice steady, feigning calm. She wasn’t going to show just how much she wanted that piece of paper. No one could bluff like a dragon. 

“Your hoard,” Amelia said. 

Calm was not an option. Asking for her hoard was like asking a human mother for her children. She felt the first stages of the change, her instinct to protect her books overriding all else. But Bookworm was still a rational being. She wasn’t going to attack a human for making a suggestion, not when fear could work just as well. 

Amelia took a step backwards, bringing her hand up to her chest to rest on a small amulet there. It was like the one Laura had worn. Bookworm noticed it now for the first time, seeing the circle of wood and the faint trace of power that touched the carvings on its surface. Adam had made it, leaving the essence of his magic trapped inside, but this one wasn’t as powerful as the one Laura had used. 

Bookworm looked up, meeting Amelia’s eyes, “My hoard is my own. I will not part with it.” 

“I just meant… I’d like to look through it, to read some of the books. There’s a lot we could use in our magic workshops.” 

Bookworm considered this. If people were careful with her treasures, she was happy for them to be read. It only added to the store of knowledge that illuminated the pages. 

She nodded, “You may read them. But if you damage any of my books, I will make you die for it. Slowly.” 

Amelia gave a nervous nod, an agreement of this pact. Her hand slipped away from the amulet. She held out the piece of paper. Bookworm took it and read. There was a name and a phone number written down, nothing more, but the spiky handwriting held a flavour of Amelia, the impression of her need to help Adam, and the desire to dig into Bookworm’s store of knowledge. She wasn’t reading them to help her workshops; she was looking for something for herself. 

“He’s supposed to be an expert on rituals of calling up the dead,” Amelia said. “Not many people focus on death magic because it’s considered morbid, or because they’re worried about being associated with devil-worshippers. The people I’ve spoken to all seem to agree that of the ones there are, this guy is the best.” 

“Thank you,” Bookworm said, looking at the phone number, which had an international dialling code in front of it. 

***

Derek stood outside Stiles’ house. He knew he shouldn’t be here. He’d told Stiles to stay away from him, and for good reason. The Argents had proved before that they were willing to kill innocent humans, and the alpha had murdered at least twice. The best thing for Stiles would be for Derek to never set eyes on him again. 

But Derek found himself drawn here nonetheless. He wanted to see Stiles, to catch the fleeting glimpses of Adam that showed through in how he spoke or acted. Besides, he owed Stiles his life. It was only right to thank him for that. 

The house stood empty and dark in the growing evening. That was probably for the best. Derek had wondered how to thank Stiles for what he’d done at the veterinary clinic. He didn’t want to get something that would seem too personal; he wasn’t thanking his boyfriend after all. He also didn’t want to let on how much he knew about Stiles’ habits and preferences. He’d settled for chocolate, and now held a small bag which contained a few different bars. He could claim he hadn’t known what Stiles liked, but he knew that Stiles would eat any of these. It wasn’t much of a present, but it felt better than just ignoring what had happened at the vet’s. 

Derek stared up at the dark window to Stiles’ room. Maybe this was for the best. He could thank Stiles without actually having to face him. Derek slid the bag over his wrist so that he had his hands free and looked up at the window. He quickly worked out a route up, using the drainpipe and the window below for footholds, until he could slide up the lower half of the window and drop inside. 

He half-expected an alarm to go off, but the sheriff’s house had surprisingly bad security. Maybe they thought no one would dare rob the sheriff. 

Derek stood in the middle of the dark bedroom and breathed in the smell of Stiles, the smell of Adam. It filled the air with a sense of home, a sense of comfort. All his instincts tried to tell him that this was a pack place, a safe place. His conscious mind knew otherwise and the pain of losing Adam, never distant for long, resurfaced again. He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to cry. He couldn’t break down. He couldn’t lose control. Not until the alpha was dead and his sister avenged. 

Taking a few deep breaths didn’t help him maintain his calm. They just reminded him of what he was missing. 

He was lost in the past, caught in his own misery, that he didn’t notice someone approaching until he heard footsteps on the landing. A moment later, the door opened and someone flipped the light switch. Derek found himself facing Stiles. Derek was furious with himself for getting caught like this, particularly at being caught in this state. He let the heat of his anger dry the threatening tears. 

“Oh my god!” Stiles physically jumped, stumbling backwards and grabbing at the doorframe as he nearly fell over his own feet. 

“What the hell?” Stiles asked. “Are you mad about what happened at Deaton’s? Because I’m really, really sorry about punching you I couldn’t think of a way to wake you up and it was either that or the kiss of life and I figured that really would result in you killing me so I went with what I had an it seemed to work so I think you should cut me some slack and-“ 

Derek threw the bag of chocolate bars at him. It seemed to be the fastest way to get him to shut up. Stiles flailed, fumbled the bag twice and then caught it properly. He did, thankfully, stop talking. Curious, he looked into the bag. Then he looked back at Derek. 

“Huh?” Stiles asked. 

“Thank you for saving my life,” Derek said. 

Stiles just gaped for several seconds, then looked back into the bag. 

“So your life is worth half a dozen candy bars?” he asked. 

Derek headed back to the window. He wasn’t going to stick around and be mocked. He jumped down to the ground below. As he hurried off, he heard Stiles call out, “You’re welcome.” 

***

Stiles, his heart still racing so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest, grabbed his phone and pulled up Scott’s number. 

“He was here,” Stiles said, the second Scott answered. 

“Who was where?” 

“Derek Hale! He was in my bedroom!” 

“Are you OK? Did he hurt you?” 

“No, he… he gave me candy bars.” Now that he came to say it, his panic seemed slightly less justified. He was just freaked out by the possibility that a dangerous werewolf, who might have killed his sister whatever he said to the contrary, had been calmly standing in his room. 

“Candy bars?” Scott asked. 

Stiles emptied the bag onto his bed, noting that there were a variety of options to choose from, which was actually surprisingly thoughtful. 

“I got thrown around his house and clawed in the stomach,” Scott said. “You got candy bars?” 

“They might be poisoned,” Stiles said. For some reason, that thought comforted him. The idea that Derek might try to trick him into eating poisoned chocolate than the idea that Derek might actually give him chocolate to be nice. 

“Maybe he’s got a crush on you,” Scott suggested. 

“You are out of your little, werewolf mind. He kept threatening to kill me while we were waiting for you to find that bullet. Thank you for leaving me with him that long, by the way.” 

“I said I was sorry! I had to find the bullet without getting them suspicious or tripping the million alarms they had around their arsenal.” 

“OK,” said Stiles, “but what am I supposed to do about the chocolate?” 

“Eat it?” 

“You are a fount of uselessness.” 

“Stiles, if he were going to kill you, I doubt it would be with chocolate so just… relax.” 

Scott hung up on him. Stiles stared at the candy bars a bit longer, then he picked one up, tore it open, and started to eat. 

***

Bookworm waited to make the phone call, because there was a five hour time difference and she didn’t want to start things off by calling someone at an unreasonable time when she was about to ask for a trade. 

“Hello,” said the voice at the other end, “Joseph Colloway speaking.” 

“I understand you have knowledge of spirits and the afterlife.” 

“Yes, I do. I run group séances on Friday evenings for only twenty pounds attendance fee, or if you want a personal reading to connect with a loved one, I charge a hundred pounds per hour. If you want an exorcism, I’ll need more information before giving a quote.” 

“Actually, I want to read your books.” 

“Read… my books?” 

“I’m sure someone of your reputation will have quite a collection of books on this subject.” 

“Yes, but it takes more than books to do what I can do. It takes training, it takes skills, it takes power.” 

“I just need the books,” Bookworm said. “In exchange for letting me read them, I can give you an opportunity to read an original of Spiritus et Animae.” 

“Now I know you’re nuts,” Colloway said. “The church declared that book heretical in the sixteenth century and had it destroyed. The only surviving copy I’ve ever heard of is apparently in the possession of some crazy dragon.” 

Bookworm said nothing. She let the man think through the implications of what he’d just said. A minute later, he asked, “You really have it?” 

“Yes. Let me read your books and you may read it.” 

“Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and far too enthusiastically. He tried to cover it by saying with fake casualness, “I’m sure that will be satisfactory.” 

Bookworm suspected she would get as much from him reading her book as she would from reading his.


	4. Heart Monitor/Lunatic

This book was one of the treasures of Bookworm’s collection, and one of the oldest books she possessed. It was old enough that she couldn’t display it on the shelves with the others, but kept in wrapped and sealed in an airtight container. The thought of letting some stranger paw at it caused an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach, but she would be right there, to protect her baby if necessary. 

She was already a little nervous from having to leave the rest of her hoard behind, but she couldn't have carried all of them. She had to trust that they would be safe for a few days; she’d left the shop guarded with enough wards and protection spells to fend off a small army. 

Now, she walked up to the address Colloway had given her: a terraced street in Bath, England. The old buildings of yellowish stone stretched the length of the street and looked like someone had tried to squash them into the space, making them tall but narrow. The one she wanted had a sign in the window advertising the weekly séance. 

Bookworm shifted the box containing Spiritus et Animae into the other hand and reached up to press the doorbell. The door was answered by a heavyset man with thinning hair. He looked at her with pleasant caution, but then his gaze fell on the box she held. 

“Is that...” he began, but then caught his breath, anticipation and delight written on his face. 

“It’s the book I promised,” Bookworm answered. He ushered her inside, attempting small talk on the way. 

“How was your flight?” he asked. 

“Long,” she answered. 

“I bet. Airports are always tiresome.” 

“I didn’t bother with the airport.” 

He gave her a surprised look. It shouldn’t have been so shocking; he already knew she was a dragon. The flight had been tiring, but it had been good to get her wings out for once. Colloway just looked at her worriedly, taking her through a small, formal parlour, where a round table was set with a black cloth and an entirely unmagical crystal ball. Beyond that was a much more lived-in room, with a couple of threadbare armchairs, a small table, and several bookshelves overflowing with books. 

Bookworm wanted to go straight to those shelves and see what treasures they held, but instead she set the box down on the table and set to work unfastening the clips that held it shut. She lifted the lid free and gently removed the book, carefully wrapped in layers of cloth and plastic, shielding it from potential dangers of water or battering. She peeled back each layer one at a time until the treasure lay revealed on the table. 

Colloway breathed a sigh that was almost a prayer. He looked at the book in reverent wonder. He reached out, but then waited for permission before he lifted the front cover open and revealed the pages within, with the handwritten words and bright illustrations still vivid despite the years. He looked at the book with wonder and respect, and Bookworm knew that she could trust her precious darling to his care for a time. 

“It really is an original,” he said. “I’ve seen one of the translations, a printed copy from the nineteenth century, but I never dreamed I’d see this.” 

“Be careful with it,” Bookworm said. “Now I need what you promised.” 

He never took his eyes of the book, just waved a vague hand towards his shelves. 

“Knock yourself out. Read whatever you like.” 

So Bookworm went to the shelves, which was a mess of books crammed into any space, with little care for order. Books were piled on top where there was no room for them to sit alongside their fellows. Works of fiction were slotted in beside treatises of magic and lore. Bookworm ran a hand along the shelf, brushing her fingers against the spines, searching for a book which called out to her, which sang of the things she needed to learn. 

***

There was pain. His back was burning. Some part of Derek was aware of it, but in a strangely distant way. He wondered if this was the fire, coming to get him too, like it had gotten everyone else. 

“Derek, it’ll be OK. Just hold on. You’ll be OK.” 

Derek wasn’t sure if the voice was a dream or a memory. He heard it, somewhere behind the pain, and he heard the echo of it, whispering out of the past. 

“It’ll be OK,” the voice was saying, but to someone else. 

Derek was younger, just a little boy, looking up at the world through terrified eyes. He’d been banished from the room, away from the smell of blood, told that his mommy needed time. His dad had held him, had told him that his new little sister was causing trouble already, but that everything would be alright. The emissary was here. He’d make things better. 

“Just breathe,” the voice said, upstairs in the big bedroom with mommy and all the blood. 

“Just breathe, Derek,” the voice echoed now. 

Derek breathed. The fire in his back was fading to a tingling warmth that flowed from there out through his blood. Derek remembered the night of the new moon, the way the power had flowed through him. He whispered Adam’s name into the darkness, but no one answered. 

He slipped back into the darkness, but in his mind he howled, calling out for his pack, for his family. 

In his mind, he thought he heard an answer. 

***

When Derek woke, he was stiff and cold. The smell of his own blood filled his nostrils. He sat up, the pain of his injuries replaced with a dull ache from not having moved in a long time. He looked about him, seeing the trees of the preserve. 

How the hell had he got here? 

He reached up behind him, to the hole ripped clean through his jacket and shirt, the gash where the alpha’s claws had gone. How the hell was he still alive? 

Someone had taken him from the school parking lot. Someone had healed him using magic. But who? It wasn’t Adam, he knew that, and he couldn’t imagine that Stiles would have the power to do something like this; he hadn’t even started to learn magic yet. Besides, it hadn’t felt quite right. He’d felt Adam’s magic inside him twice now and there had been a certain feeling it had carried with it. This time, it had been subtly different. Someone else using magic? He’d thought he’d heard a voice, but that could have been a delusion caused by being on the point of death. There hadn’t been an emissary with the pack since the fire. 

Derek stood, moving all his muscles slowly, trying to get some life back into them. How long had he been out? It felt like it must have been weeks. He was sore all over and hungrier than he could ever remember being. 

It was dark under the trees. He started walking, not sure exactly where he was and so even less sure where he was going. The movement helped, easing away aches in stiff muscles. He was helped more by the pull of the moon, the power rising inside of him. He felt alive again. 

He needed to find Scott. He needed to find Stiles. He needed to know if they were alive. 

Derek ran, dropping to all fours in his werewolf form, letting the ground rush past beneath him. He headed for Stiles’ house first. He needed to know that Stiles was safe. It was something physical, a force deep inside that was driving him on. They’d been there with the alpha. Derek hadn’t been able to fight him, hadn’t even known that he was there until it was too late. Scott couldn’t have fought him. Stiles definitely couldn’t. 

If Stiles was dead right now, Derek didn’t know what he’d do. He’d lost too many people already. 

He reached the house, his thoughts still not quite functioning properly, his mind fixated on the need to see Stiles, to check he was OK. But the house was dark and empty. No cars in the driveway, no lights on inside. 

He didn’t let himself panic. There were still many places Stiles could be. This didn’t mean anything. 

He ran on, racing through the darkness to another house, hunting for Scott. He heard Stiles’ voice in the distance, calling out Scott’s name. Stiles was alive. Derek let out a wordless cry of delight as he pounded through the distance and saw Stiles running out of Scott’s house, yelling into the night. 

Derek reached him, grabbed him, needing to know that this wasn’t just a dream. He came out of the darkness and flung his arms around Stiles, nearly knocking them both over. He needed to feel the warmth of Stiles’ skin, to hear the pound of his heart, to know that his lover, his pack was safe. 

Stiles yelled in terror and Derek let go, human intellect finally getting control over wolf instincts. 

“What the hell?!” Stiles yelled. He stared at Derek in the darkness. “Derek? You scared the crap out of me! What was that?! What are you doing? For that matter, how the hell are you alive? We saw the alpha skewer you. We thought you were dead. You can’t just come leaping out of the darkness like that when you’re supposed to be dead.” 

Stiles stopped yelling to draw another breath and Derek cut him off before the rant could restart. 

“Where’s Scott?” 

“I don’t know. I had him chained up because of the moon but then he broke free. I don’t know where he’s gone or what he’s going to do.” 

Stiles sounded scared. Really scared. This wasn’t the shocked terror of being caught off-guard, this was the bone-deep terror that something truly terrible might happen and his best friend would be at the heart of it. 

Derek wanted nothing more than to stay here, to reaffirm that Stiles was safe and whole, but he couldn’t bear the sound of that fear. Not when he could do something about it. Besides, Adam had told him to protect Scott, so he would do just that. He put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, wincing inwardly when Stiles flinched away in surprise from the touch. 

“I’ll find Scott,” Derek said. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles said. He hesitated, adding, “And then you can explain how the hell you’re still alive.” 

“I don’t know how I’m still alive.” The best he could figure was that someone had carried him to safety and used magic to kick start his healing, even from near death, but he didn’t know who that person could be. It wasn’t like the Hale pack had an emissary anymore. 

He left Stiles behind, running into the darkness to find Scott. 

***

After taking Scott home, Derek had returned to Stiles’ house, watching him and his dad come home. Derek had sat out in the darkness all night, keeping vigil. He tried to tell himself that he was standing guard, just in case the alpha or Scott or another werewolf succumbed to the draw of the moon and became violent. In his heart, he knew the truth though. He was here because he wanted to listen to the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat, to hear him sleep. 

There was something soothing in that rhythm, barely audible through the walls of the house. Derek hadn’t ever thought about it when Adam was sleeping by his side, but he need that comfort now. So much was gone, so much was lost, he needed the reassurance of the regular sounds. With every beat, that sound told Derek that Stiles was safe. 

Derek sat out in the darkness, leaning back against a tree, and drifted to sleep hearing the steady thump-thump of Stiles’ heart. 

***

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

Derek snapped awake, ready for a fight. He saw Scott staring down at him. It took Derek several seconds to remember where he was and why. It would take him considerably longer to explain the situation in a way that Scott would understand or accept. 

“Are you stalking Stiles?” Scott demanded. 

“No! It’s nothing like that.” 

“Then why are you hanging around outside his house?” 

Derek decided to go for an answer that was at least partially true. 

“The full moon,” he said. “He can’t defend himself, so I decided to keep watch.” 

“Watch for what? Do you think that the alpha would come after him?” There was a moment when neither of them spoke, then a look of horror came over Scott’s face. “You thought I might come after him?” 

Derek didn’t answer. He hadn’t really been thinking of Scott as a threat to Stiles, not on this occasion, though the thought had crossed his mind at other times. If he’d thought Scott was a danger, he would have spent the night in front of Scott’s house. Not that he’d done much good keeping watch, but he’d been nearly dead for a couple of days, so he figured sleep was excusable. 

Scott seemed to sag slightly, all the righteous anger he’d had on finding Derek here just faded away. He looked as weak and tired as Derek felt. 

“I nearly killed him at the school,” Scott said. “The alpha forced me to change and I nearly killed all of them. Just being around me could get Stiles killed.” He looked towards the house. “I would never forgive myself if something happened to him.” 

“We’ll protect him,” Derek said. 

“Yeah, but maybe it’s not a good idea for you to be hanging around outside his house at night. His dad probably will shoot you if he catches you here and you’re already wanted for murder.” 

Derek dismissed that last worry, “I was on a plane when Laura was murdered and the sheriff will have checked my alibi by now. They have no reason to connect me with the other bodies.” 

“Erm…” Scott looked suddenly nervous. 

“What?” Derek asked. 

“The cops do kinda have a reason for thinking you might be the killer.” 

Scott explained what he’d told the others at the school. Derek grabbed him and shoved him against the trunk of a tree before he was even halfway through the explanation. 

“Why the hell would you tell them I tried to kill you?” Derek demanded. 

“I thought you were dead! I couldn’t tell them it was actually an alpha werewolf trying to kill us and I panicked. I’m sorry.” 

Lights were coming on inside the Stilinski house. Derek looked over to them. Somewhere inside there, the sheriff was waking up. Scott was right, Derek couldn’t be found here. If the sheriff thought that Derek was stalking his son, he wouldn’t wait to ask questions. 

Derek shoved Scott aside and ran back towards the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show never really explained how Derek survived at the end of Heart Monitor, or where Deaton disappeared to at that point. This is my answer to both.


	5. Wolfsbane

Derek packed Adam’s things back into his rucksack, and packed his own as well. His belongings had spilled out over the floor in one of the upper rooms of the ruined house. Derek knew he couldn’t stay here; the police would be looking for him. He needed to find somewhere else to hide out. More than that, he needed someone to hide some of this stuff. The book in particular wouldn’t last long here, in a house with broken windows and fire damage to the walls. He had to find somewhere safe to put it. 

Again he wondered about giving it to Stiles, saying it might be useful. There was someone around here who had healed Derek so there had to be someone who could teach Stiles the basics of magic. 

Derek picked up the book, flicking through its pages. His mind drifted to Bookworm. He’d spent so much time lately feeling like he didn’t have any answers; she always had answers. He pulled out his phone and called up her number. 

“Derek Hale,” she answered. “This is a surprise.” 

“I need help,” Derek said. 

“Go on.” 

“I need to know what Laura was doing in her last days. I need to know why she came here alone and what she did when she got here. Then I might stand a chance of tracking down the alpha who killed her. I need to find out who killed her. Is there any way to use magic to find that stuff out?” 

He could hear Bookworm’s smile in her tone when she answered, “You may be in luck. I’m in exactly the right place to ask your questions for you. But there will be a price.” 

Derek had expected this. There was always a price. 

“What do you want?”

“I think you know. I want one of his books, one he’s read recently. I want to see how far he is from being Adam, and I think you do too.” 

“I’ll get you a book,” Derek promised. “Just get me answers.” 

***

Bookworm had spent several days reading and during that time she had learned a lot about spirits and death, séances and psychic readings. There were books on the history of the art, along with stories of hoaxes and frauds, as well as stories that appeared to be true magic. She learned a little more about Colloway, about the ways he would let his customers believe they’d communicated with a loved one, genuinely believing he was helping them get closure. 

As Bookworm read the stories of the fakers, she picked up traces of how Colloway performed his own deceptions, making the séance seem real to the gullible and the sceptic. He used a mixture of age-old tricks and genuinely magical effects to help people say farewell to their loved ones. 

But she had learned enough about him to know it wasn’t all trickery. He had an ability to call up spirits and ghosts, but only if the spirit hadn’t moved on, for whatever reason. In those cases, he could communicate with the lost spirit and help them. He guided them to whatever lay beyond, to the mysteries even he couldn’t guess at. If Bookworm was right, and Laura’s spirit hadn’t moved on yet, then there was a chance Colloway could reach her. 

She went to find Colloway. He was at the séance table with her book, working through the process of carefully photographing every page for his own use later. 

“I would like you to help me contact a spirit,” Bookworm said. She waved a hand at the crystal, and the candles which were set up around the room, “Don’t bother with the show or the tricks. I want truth, not comfort.” 

She fixed him with a firm stare. He swallowed nervously. 

“I can’t promise it will work.” 

“I know. But if it doesn’t work, that will tell me something important.” 

They sat together at the séance table, her book still beside them. He didn’t bother with turning down the lights or setting up the candles. He just took Bookworm’s hands, and closed his eyes. 

“Think of the person you want to talk to,” he said. “Picture everything you can remember about them. Think about your memories with them and try to draw an image in your mind that’s so real you could reach out and touch them.” 

Bookworm did as he ask, calling up her own power as she did so, filling her mind with images of Laura Hale. She pictured Laura as she’d been in the bookshop, or phoning up to ask for help on the night of the New Moon. She pictured Laura’s need to protect her pack. She recalled the sound of the wolf’s howl, the night she’d closed the circle with the coven. Bookworm drew those things together into an image of Laura’s spirit. 

“Say the name,” Colloway said. 

“Laura Hale,” Bookworm said. 

“Laura Hale,” Colloway echoed, “we call to you. Laura Hale, come to us. Laura Hale, answer us.” 

His hands tightened around Bookworm’s, fingers clenching. He seemed to shake slightly. Bookworm felt the power, a colder touch than normal, that brushed against her own. The shaking increased, as though Colloway was vibrating from the tension, straining with effort. 

“Laura Hale, hear me,” he said. 

In her mind, Bookworm heard the call of a wolf. Frightened and lonely, it cried out for pack, or for anyone. 

“I hear her,” Colloway said. “She’s trapped. Her spirit isn’t free. She can’t come to us.” 

“Can she hear us though? Could she answer questions?” 

“Ask. I’ll try.” 

“Laura Hale, who killed you? You brother wants to know.” 

Colloway echoed the question, but Bookworm couldn’t hear anything more from Laura. There were no other howls and certainly no words. She poured a little more of her power into Colloway hoping that would give him enough of a boost to get through. 

A moment later, whispers ran through the room, a multitude of voices almost too faint to hear. She felt a cold wind brushing against her skin and her mind flickered with images, almost too fast to see. She heard screaming. She smelled smoke, so real that it seemed her breath caught in her throat. She heard children crying out for help, felt their fear pour through her. She felt the heat on her skin, searing, burning. She saw, just for an instant, light flash against a pendent giving an image of a wolf. 

Colloway yanked his hands away from Bookworm’s. In that instant, the voices ceased. Bookworm opened her eyes and looked at him, seeing a pale, shaken face. She could smell fear pouring off him. He staggered up from the table and through to a little kitchen at the back of the house. Bookworm followed, seeing him run water in the sink and splash it over his face, probably washing away the remnants of magic that still clung after the spell. 

“What was that?” Bookworm asked. 

“Other spirits,” he answered. “They weren’t full ghosts, but sort of... echoes that get left behind sometimes when there’s a violent death. They heard us calling to Laura and answered instead when she couldn't. They want revenge.” 

Bookworm had heard of the fire that had killed the Hale family. She’d felt the pain of it in the books she’d read from Derek and Laura. Today was the closest she’d come to experiencing it. 

“I’m not doing anything like that again,” Colloway said. “Not for all the books in the world.” 

“I understand,” Bookworm said. “I’ve got something to offer Derek at least. There was an image of a pendent.” 

“I heard a name too. I don’t know what it means. Harris?” 

Bookworm nodded. She would call Derek back with this information, but first she needed to get a piece of paper so she could draw the design she’d seen on the pendent, so she could send it to him. After having felt those lost souls calling out for revenge, after having felt how they died, she hoped he did get his vengeance. 

***

Given that he was currently wanted for murder and attempted murder, hiding out in the sheriff’s house was either suicide or brilliance. It was unlikely that anyone would guess that he’d be hiding here. He couldn’t quite believe he was hiding here, but there was nowhere else to go. The police had been all over the old house twice and it wasn’t like he had any other friends he could go to for help. 

Not that Stiles and Scott were exactly his friends. 

It was weird being here. It felt right on an instinctive level that was seriously wrong on an intellectual one. He had to resist the urge to start smelling Stiles’ bed sheets, repeating a mental litany of all the reasons why that would be a bad idea. First off, Stiles was a teenager and definitely underage in this time. Plus he didn’t trust Derek and would completely freak out if he knew that Derek wanted to tear all his clothes off and kiss every inch of his skin. Scott had already accused Derek of stalking Stiles once, so any behaviour of this nature would probably convince Scott to refuse to help him ever again, or possibly try to kill him. He’d decided to stay away from Stiles for his own good and he’d already trampled all over that decision. The fact that he was wanted for murder and hiding out in the bedroom of the sheriff’s son didn’t even make the top ten list of reasons why this was completely messed up. He needed to reign in his instincts. 

He needed to focus on figuring out who the alpha was. He had a little bit of information from Bookworm, but he didn’t know how the pieces fit together. Harris’s name had given him nothing. The pendent had led him straight back to the Argents. 

Kate Argent had set the fire, he was sure of that, but he was also sure she wasn’t the one who’d killed Laura. It seemed so matter what he got, he was no closer to figuring out the truth. 

He sighed, and went to Stiles’ bookshelf. He needed to send something to Bookworm, in exchange for what she’d given him, preferably something Stiles wouldn’t miss. He just had to hope that Scott found the necklace and got something useful from it otherwise all this was for nothing. 

He ran a hand along the shelf until he found a very familiar title. Good Omens. The book that Adam had taken his fake name from. 

Derek picked the book up from the shelf. He turned it over in his hands, noting the wrinkles in the spine, the way the book wanted to fall open, like it had been opened so many times before that it somehow knew it ought to be open. There was no way in hell that he was going to send this book to Bookworm, but he could read it now. It was a connection, however minor, to Adam. 

Derek started reading while he waited for Stiles to come home. 

***

Derek should have known. Adam had tried to warn him. His very last word had been Peter’s name. At least Stiles had managed to run. He was safe. For now. 

Now Derek sat on the floor of a hospital room, watching those burn scars fade away to smooth and perfect skin. He thought of those times he’d sat in his uncle’s room, talking about how he needed to find the one who’d killed Laura. Peter must have been laughing to himself the minute Derek left. 

Peter turned to Derek, “Derek, you have to give me a chance to explain. After all, we’re family.” 

“Laura was family. You murdered her.” 

“It wasn’t like that. Derek, I had spent six years trapped inside my own body, unable to move, not even really aware of what was going on around me. Then Laura came. I saw... something in the darkness. The triskele, glowing silver.” 

Peter reached into his shirt, pulling on a cord until a little wooden disc came out from under his clothes. The amulet. Laura’s amulet, made for her by Adam. Peter looked at it now, running a finger over the triple spiral carved onto one side. He looked back at Derek. 

“I saw this,” he said. “Laura was talking to me, trying to get through to me, like you did. This let her reach me, at least a part of me. The wolf inside woke up for the first time in years.” 

Peter crouched down in front of Derek, looking him in the eye. 

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” Peter said. “I was acting on pure instincts. The wolf was awake but I wasn’t, not really. When she tried to reach me again, she called up the wolf and... I’m sorry, Derek. It wasn’t until afterwards that I was back to being me and that I realised what I’d done. Even with her power, it took time to be whole again.” 

Derek looked at the amulet between Peter’s fingers. 

“That doesn’t belong to you,” he said. He wondered if Peter could use it. The amulet had been designed specifically for Laura, so it would work better for her than anyone else, but there was still a chance that Peter had figured out the shield. If so, trying to fight him would be impossible. But maybe he didn’t know what that symbol meant. After all, if he’d been trapped in a coma for six years, he wouldn’t have had someone dragging him out to see superhero movies. 

Peter slowly lifted the amulet from over his head, still looking at it sadly. 

“She was my family too, Derek,” he said. “I wanted to keep this in remembrance, but if it means that much to you.” He held it out. “I really am sorry.” 

There were tears in his eyes. 

Derek’s fingers brushed against Peter’s as he took the amulet from him. He felt a little bit of his anger drain away. Peter wasn’t denying killing Laura, and a part of Derek wanted to just reach out and rip out the man’s throat for that. But he looked so genuinely sad. If the wolf had been in control, Derek knew how that could feel. He’d seen Scott fighting his instincts over these past few weeks. Maybe Peter had been as much a victim as Laura. 

“That amulet is an interesting piece of work,” Peter said. “I’d very much like to meet the person who made it.” 

“He’s gone,” Derek said. 

Derek closed his fist around the wooden circle of the amulet. He closed his eyes, picturing the triskele on the amulet, on Adam’s back, on Laura’s. Everyone was gone, everyone who’d ever mattered to him. 

But Peter was family too. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to get that back. Maybe that was what Adam had been trying to tell him, that Peter could be pack again. 

Derek put the amulet around his own neck. He looked at Peter. 

“So what happens now?” he asked.


	6. Code Breaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comments, I've had someone ask about a particular scene. I don't intend to rewrite scenes from the show. For one thing, it would take forever and for another it would probably get a bit dull because it would all be stuff everyone has seen before. For this middle part of the trilogy, I will be continuing with missing scenes and events that are taking place at the same time as the show, but I won't be retelling many actual scenes (except in summary to give context for the missing scenes). If something happened in the show, assume it happened in exactly that way for this story.

Stiles had been scared out of his mind several times over the past few weeks, but somehow nothing even came close to being as terrifying as sitting in his jeep with Peter, making small talk. He was convinced now that Peter was completely out of his mind. He could kill or threaten to kill with perfect calmness. Stiles had no doubt that Peter would kill him in a heartbeat once he was no longer useful. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Stiles,” Peter said, pleasantly. 

“You have? From who?” Stiles was trying to keep his hands from shaking as they gripped the steering wheel. 

“From whom,” Peter corrected. 

“Seriously? You’re pausing your killing spree to correct my grammar?” 

Peter smiled slightly, “We have time and it seems educational standards have slipped since my day. Not that that seems to stop you. I hear you’re very clever. I hear you have lots of interesting talents.” 

Stiles was confused by this whole thing, by the way Peter kept looking at him, like he was a puzzle to be worked out. It was freaking him out more than a little and he kept thinking of the way Peter had looked at him back at the hospital. He’d already known his name and looked almost pleased to see him. 

He tried not to think about it too much, because he couldn’t afford to have a panic attack while he was driving. Particularly not when he was playing chauffer to a psychotic werewolf who’d nearly killed someone once already tonight. So he kept talking. That was what you were supposed to do when you got kidnapped, right? Talk to the kidnapper so that he would see him as a person and find it harder to kill him. Somehow, Stiles didn’t think that would work in this case, but he had to try. 

“Who told you that?” he asked. 

“It’s astonishing what people will say when they think you can’t hear them. People will say something to a comatose patient that they would never dream of saying to anyone else. For example, did you know Derek had a friend?” 

“Derek with a friend? No I can’t quite picture it.” Except, Derek had mentioned a friend. Once. Stiles tried to remember. It had been when Derek had tried to convince Stiles that he should leave Scott alone for his own safety. Derek had mentioned that a friend had been hurt. Or killed. He hadn’t been clear on that. 

“Derek didn’t tell you anything about his friend?” Peter asked. 

“No. Just that he got hurt by hunters for being seen with Derek.” 

“A pity. I was interested to learn more about him and I’d hoped you might know.” 

“Sorry. I guess today isn’t your lucky day.” 

“I guess not. But there’s always tomorrow.” 

“I really hope so,” Stiles muttered. He wasn’t at all sure he’d live through this night. 

***

The amulet wasn’t working. 

When he was being shot by hunters, there hadn’t been time to try and use it. Derek had seen Adam work magic, and he’d always needed to pause and focus first. When hunters had been shooting him with arrows and bullets, there hadn’t been a moment to pull out the amulet and try to make a shield. Now he had time, and the amulet still wasn’t working. 

He sat out in the woods, holding the amulet in his hands, and focused. Nothing happened. There was no silver glow around the symbols. No magic shield. No connection to pack. The amulet just hung there like a lump of useless wood. 

Maybe the magic had died with Adam. Maybe it wouldn’t work for him because it had been made for Laura. Maybe he just didn’t have any magical talent. It didn’t really matter now anyway. Peter was dead, as was Kate. The people who’d been trying to kill him weren’t going to be doing so anymore. It probably wasn’t important that he didn’t have the ability to create a shield of invisible energy. 

He hung it around his neck, tucking it into his shirt so that it would rest against his skin. It might be broken, but it was still a piece of Laura and of Adam. He would keep it safe, to keep their memories safe. 

He stood up and walked through the woods. The fight had happened, just like Adam had told him it would. He’d said it would take a lot of them to kill the alpha, including Stiles and Scott and the Argents, and even Jackson. Adam had told him this was how it would end. He’d also told him what Derek had done, after Stiles had helped him out with a... family problem. Derek didn’t have any family left, so he knew that Stiles must have been talking about this. 

He knew what he needed to do next. Somewhere in Beacon Hills, there would be a second-hand bookshop with what he needed. 

***

When Stiles walked into his room and saw Derek, he gave an undignified yelp, tripped over his own feet and nearly face-planted on the floor. Derek caught him before he could quite fall. He lifted Stiles back to his feet and then quickly let go. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked. “Are you here to kill me?” 

“Why would I want to kill you?” 

“I don’t know. It just seems like your default setting is wanting to kill me.” 

“I’m not going to kill you, Stiles.” 

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” 

Stiles tried to get his breathing under control and his heart rate back down to normal levels. He probably needed to get a ‘no entry to werewolves’ sign and stick it on his window because he couldn’t cope with people climbing in here when he was out. He actually wondered if nailing shut the window would be a good idea, since he wasn’t keen on werewolves climbing in when he was here either. 

“Why are you here?” he asked Derek, once he’d regained some semblance of dignity. 

“To give you this.” Derek picked up a small package that had been on the bed. It was wrapped in old newspaper. He held it out to Stiles, who took it, more confused now than anything else. 

“Your wrapping skills need some work,” Stiles said. There was no tape, so the paper just pulled away to reveal a second hand book. 

“I saw the sort of stuff you read,” Derek said, gesturing towards the bookshelves. “I figured this would be your sort of thing.” 

Stiles turned the book over in his hands, still very confused. “Why?” 

“You helped me to get Peter. You didn’t have to and you risked your life to do so.” 

“I was just helping Scott.”

“I know, but whether you were there for Scott or me, you helped me get justice for my sister’s murder. This is to say thank you.” 

Derek turned and climbed out the window, leaving Stiles standing in the middle of his bedroom, feeling just as confused as ever. He took a closer look at the book, reading the back cover, and decided that Derek had been right. It did look like the sort of book he would choose. It was strange that Derek would notice that. 

Stiles pulled out his phone and called Scott. 

“Hey, Stiles. What’s up?” 

“Hey. Did Derek... give you anything after the thing with Peter?” 

“Give me what?” 

“I don’t know. Anything.” 

“No. Why?” 

“He gave me a book,” Stiles said, “as a thank you present for helping him kill Peter. This is weird, right?” 

“A little bit. Maybe he really does have a crush on you.” 

“Oh be serious, Scott.” 

Scott laughed, “I don’t have any other ideas. Maybe he wanted to do exactly what he said. I mean, you did do the thing with the cocktail and I don’t think we would have stopped him without that. Maybe Derek really did just want to say thanks.” 

“Maybe.” 

Stiles hung up a few minutes later. He sat in his room, staring at the book. He read the first few pages, but couldn’t quite focus. He kept thinking about Derek, and about the mess he was in now. Derek had come here, trying to be nice, bringing a book as a peace offering, even after Stiles and Scott had caused him so much trouble. They’d gotten him arrested, claimed he’d been behind the attack at the school, enough to seriously screw up the rest of Derek’s life. He needed to do something. 

When he heard the car pull up outside, Stiles headed downstairs, greeting his dad as he came through the door. 

“Something wrong?” his dad asked. 

“How’s it going with the investigation into what happened at the Hale house?” Stiles asked. 

“You know I can’t talk about that.” 

“Dad, please. Tell me. It’s important.” 

His dad gave him a long look, then sighed. Stiles hated hiding things from his dad and he was pretty sure his dad knew he was hiding things. There was this gaping chasm of secrets between them and Stiles needed to do something to close that gap, even if he couldn’t come clean about everything and drag his dad into this insanely dangerous world of supernatural stuff. 

“I’ve got more information now,” he dad said, “but it seems like it just adds to more questions. We’ve got enough to be fairly certain that Kate Argent was behind the fire six years ago, and the people who’ve been killed were all responsible for part of it, with the exception of Laura Hale. I might have thought that Kate was behind the killings, except for the fact that she clearly didn’t rip out her own throat. Her death looked like an animal attack as well, but no animal would be this targeted unless a person deliberately set it on them. Derek Hale is still my best suspect, except that he’d have no reason to kill his sister and he’s got a rock solid alibi for her death, so all I can think is maybe he and his sister were working together and somehow the animal got her by accident before they could start killing. It just feels like I’m missing something huge.” 

Stiles took a breath, “You are, Dad.” 

His dad raised an eyebrow, a silent request for Stiles to continue. 

“There’s another Hale,” Stiles said. “Peter Hale.” 

“He’s in a long-term care facility. I checked that when we first identified Laura Hale’s body.” 

“Check again.” 

His dad frowned, “What do you know?” 

Stiles took another breath, trying to calculate exactly how much truth to include. “Peter Hale is the one who attacked Lydia at the formal. I think he’s behind the other deaths, maybe even what happened at the school. I don’t think Derek had anything to do with the murders. I think it was all Peter. He had a nurse, I don’t know her name. If you track down her car, you’ll find her body in the trunk. He said he was better; he didn’t need her anymore.” 

The police would blame the real killer now, even if they would never find him. Let them think that Peter had fled town after Kate’s murder. After all, he’d got everyone involved in the arson. The police could hunt for him, and Derek would no longer be a wanted fugitive. It was the least he could do after all that he and Scott had inadvertently put Derek through. 

Stiles was no longer looking at his dad. He didn’t need to see the shock and anger in his dad’s face. He heard enough of that anger in the tone of voice when his dad said, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner?” 

“Because he terrifies me! At the formal, he hurt Lydia because he thought I could help find Derek. That makes me an accomplice!” Stiles didn’t have to fake the shudder as he said the next part, remembering how Peter had spoken to him, looked at him: “And he said he liked me.” 

“Liked?” 

Stiles nodded. He probably looked scared and pathetic right now. Hopefully that would stop his dad crucifying him for hiding vital information from the police. At least he could pretend that he’d only known this stuff since the formal, and that he’d been mistaken the night at the school. 

His dad pulled him into a fierce hug that caught Stiles off guard. Stiles stood there for a moment, confused and ashamed that he was still giving lies, even when he was opening up to his dad. Then Stiles hugged back. 

“I’m going to need you to give an official statement,” his dad said, still hugging, “and I’ll get people out looking for Peter Hale. It’ll be OK. I won’t let him hurt you.” 

***

Bookworm returned to her shop, dismissing her protective spells will a burst of will. She hurried to the shelves, needing to see her books, smell them, touch them. She needed to know they were safe, to run her hands alone their spines, to open them up and drink in the words. 

She had another book with her now, but not one to add to the collection. She’d persuaded Colloway to give her one of his books. It was a slim volume on spirit traps, on ways in which a person’s spirit could be caught in this world after death. 

All knowledge was valuable, but to the right person, the knowledge in this book was beyond price. Now she had to decide what to do with it. Derek or Adam would give almost anything for what this book contained, but right now Derek didn’t have anything valuable enough to offer. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to do anything with this knowledge without Adam. 

To tell him now would be to squander a bargaining chip that she might need later. She slid the book into a temporary space on her bookshelf. 

When Derek had something she wanted, she could offer this to him: the knowledge that his sister’s soul was still in this world, and the knowledge of how to free it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It bothered me how in season two Derek suddenly wasn't wanted for murder anymore and that everyone seemed to think Kate did it all. That doesn't make sense, given that she was one of the ones murdered. Plus, there was Peter's nurse, whose murder never got mentioned again afterwards. I think it makes a lot more sense for people to blame Peter. So as far as this story is concerned, all the people that Peter killed are rightfully assumed to have been murdered by him. The references in the show to Kate being a mass murderer can easily be explained as people talking about the fire.


	7. Omega - Ice Pick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm skimming through several episodes in this chapter. Hopefully it will all make sense.

The graveyard smelled on an unfamiliar werewolf and one very terrified human. Derek stood at the edge of the empty grave and looked down at the teenaged boy huddled in the bottom. 

“Need a hand?” Derek asked. The kid looked like he was about to wet himself, like he thought Derek might kill him. Derek crouched down and held out a hand towards the kid, to help haul him out, and he stared for about two minutes, wondering if he should take it. Eventually, he seemed to decide that staying in the bottom of a hole all night was the lesser of two evils. He took Derek’s hand and used the other on the edge of the grave. Derek practically had to lift the kid out. 

“You OK?” Derek asked. The kid nodded, but he didn’t look OK. Aside from still looking scared half to death, there was bruising around his eye. The kid glanced towards one of the other graves, where the earth had been disturbed by someone digging. 

“What did you see?” Derek asked. 

“Someone,” the kid said. “Something. It looked... like a person, but not. It wasn’t an animal but it wasn’t quite human either. That sounds crazy.” 

“Not to me.” 

The kid’s eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious, “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just out for a walk.” 

“In a graveyard? At night?” 

Even scared stiff, the kid was bright enough to spot when things weren’t right. If he started babbling about what he saw though, it would make life difficult. Some rogue werewolf causing trouble would make a mess of things just when it looked like they were going to quieten down. Derek was finally no longer wanted for murder after all. 

“What’s your name?” Derek asked. 

“Isaac.” 

The name sounded familiar. It took Derek a moment to place why. Adam had mentioned Isaac, throwing the name into a random tangent of conversation as he talked. He’d described Isaac as his first beta, which meant that either Jackson would reject the bite or Adam just didn’t think he was worth counting. Adam had said that Derek had started to put together a pack of strays and misfits once he became and alpha. This kid certainly looked like a misfit and if Adam was right, then the bite would take with him, and Adam hadn’t been wrong yet. 

It would be good to have a pack again. 

“What happened to your eye?” Derek asked. “Did the thing you saw do that?” 

“No that was... lacrosse practice. I got hit in practice.” 

Everything about him radiated the fact he was lying. His heartbeat, his scent, the way he didn’t quite look Derek in the eye. 

“I know you’re lying,” Derek said. “If someone’s hurting you, maybe I can help.” 

The kid gave a bitter laugh, “How could you help?” 

Derek leaned in closer, let his eyes shift, “I’m not quite human either.” 

***

He couldn’t stay in the ruined house anymore. He needed somewhere new. Derek had found a few places to crash over the past few weeks, while on the run from the police. The best place so far was the railway depot. It was large and empty. No one had any reason to go there. He’d spent a few nights in there, trying to sleep on the seats in a rusted out subway car. It wasn’t exactly home, but it was better than nowhere. 

He still couldn’t afford anywhere real to live but now he wasn’t a fugitive anymore, at least he could sort out some of the things he’d never got round to. Like the fact that just about everything he owned was still in New York. 

He considered phoning Bookworm, but he didn’t want to owe her any more than he already did. He couldn’t risk taking more books from Stiles’ place. There weren’t many others he could go to for this and he didn’t want to leave town right when more hunters were showing up. So he called the magic shop. It was an unfamiliar voice that answered, possibly a new worker hired now that Adam was gone. He put Amelia on the phone when Derek asked. 

Derek asked if she and Neil could pack up the apartment and hand in his notice to the landlord. He would post them the key and a list of things he wanted sending down. Anything else they could keep or sell as they saw fit. He didn’t think he’d be going back to New York. 

It felt easier this way. Someone else would be doing the work. Someone else would be deciding what happened to all the things that used to be Laura’s. He would keep a few items, to remember her by, but no more. 

His sister was gone. Adam was gone. Even Peter was gone. His entire pack was no more. Derek found himself a seat in the old subway carriage and let himself cry, feeling the amulet beneath his shirt, and feeling intensely alone. 

He sat there for a long time, letting the tears flow until there were no tears left, just a quiet, hollow space inside him where his feelings had once been. 

He was still sitting there when he heard the sound of footsteps, as a teenaged boy found his way into Derek’s new lair. 

***

Derek was beginning to wonder if turning Isaac had been the stupidest mistake in his whole long line of stupid mistakes. OK, so he was a nice kid who wanted to feel strong and to feel like there was somewhere he belonged, there was nothing wrong with that. But someone was already dead. Isaac had sworn it wasn’t him, but Derek was still worried. If nothing else, the police and the Argents wouldn’t be looking much further than Isaac for a suspect. 

Derek helped Isaac back to the rail depot. If nothing else, he could keep Isaac safe tonight. He was back in human form, despite the moon. Derek just hoped he would stay that way for the rest of the night. He remembered how much trouble it had been with Scott losing control when he’d first been changed. There hadn’t been time yet to teach Isaac control. 

In the dark depot, they headed into the subway car. There were seats and Derek could make sure he was between Isaac and the way out. Isaac didn’t seem to be thinking about escape or rampage right now though, which was good. 

“I’m sorry,” Isaac said. 

“It’s not your fault. The full moon is intense. It’ll get easier.” 

“I could have killed Stiles just because he was there and I was scared.” 

Derek felt something tense in his gut. Stiles could have died tonight. Every time, Derek kept deciding to keep away from Stiles for his own good, but when things got dangerous, he was always right there, right in the middle of it all. Derek needed to keep him safe. Tonight had been too close. Again. 

“What’s with you and Stiles?” Isaac asked. 

Derek looked at him sharply, “What do you mean?” 

“When you got between us, when you roared, you were telling me not to hurt him but it was more than that. I... felt it. I felt that I couldn’t hurt him ever. It was like some command that skipped my brain and took control of my body.” He gave a sigh. “I’m not good with words. I can’t describe it.” 

“I wasn’t going to let you hurt an innocent person, Isaac,” Derek said, which had the advantage of being true. Isaac didn’t need to know that seeing Isaac target Stiles had filled him with a terror that went far beyond words. Derek had lost everyone. If he lost Stiles too, he wouldn’t be able to keep going. 

***

“You did _what_ to Stiles?” Derek demanded, lifting Erica off her feet and slamming her into the wall. She struggled against his grip, kicking her legs wildly, but he held her there, blazing fury running through his blood. It took all the control he had left not to rip her throat out right there. 

Isaac and Boyd were there, watching. They’d moved forwards a step when Derek had grabbed Erica, but now they hesitated, unsure of whether to interrupt. Unsure of whether interrupting would get them hurt too. 

“You told me to get him out of the way,” Erica protested. Her hands turned to claws, which cut into his wrists as she fought to get free. Derek ignored the pain; the cuts healed even as she dealt them. 

“I told you to distract him. I didn’t tell you to injure him.” 

“I just hit him once.” 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous head injuries can be?” Derek demanded. “This isn’t like the movies. You don’t just tap someone on the head and they’re fine an hour later. You haven’t adjusted to your strength yet. You could have caused permanent brain damage or put him in a coma or... or killed him.” 

“I’m sorry!” 

Derek loosened his grip just enough to lower her to the ground. The instant her feet were back on the floor. He slammed her back into the wall again. 

“You could have killed him!” 

If Erica had killed Stiles, it would have been Derek’s fault. He knew that. By turning Erica, that made him responsible for her actions. He would have been the indirect cause of Stiles’ death. 

He kept screwing up. He wasn’t the alpha that Laura had been. His pack was made up of a bunch of kids with no control and he had no idea what he was doing with them. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Erica said. “I won’t hurt him again. I promise.” 

“Derek?” said Isaac, voice quiet, still a little scared. 

Derek let his grip loosen. Erica leaned against the wall, her heart still racing, fear still radiating from every part of her. 

“You’ll never touch him again.” 

Derek turned and walked away. He needed some air. He needed to clear his head. He needed some time alone. Unfortunately, his pack didn’t seem to get that message. Isaac followed him to the stairs. 

“So there’s really nothing between you and Stiles?” Isaac asked quietly. 

Derek glared at him, “He’s Scott’s friend and we need Scott in the pack. Scott will never join in Stiles gets hurt.” 

“And that’s the only reason?” 

“That’s the only reason you need to concern yourself with.” 

Derek walked away. This time, Isaac let him.


	8. Abomination

This was not how Derek had pictured getting back into Stiles’ arms. They were in the middle of a swimming pool, some strange creature patrolling the edge, and Derek couldn’t move. To make matters worse, his mouth was barely above the water level and every few breaths, water splashed inside, reminding him that he’d nearly drowned. And that Stiles had nearly let him. 

Stiles seemed about as happy at the situation as Derek was. 

“If we survive this,” he complained, “I am going to take Scott’s cell phone and shove it up his ass. Sideways.” 

“I’ll help,” Derek said. 

“You don’t get to threaten Scott. I’m allowed to because he’s my best friend but you’re not.” 

“How is that fair?” 

“Because when you threaten him, it sounds like you mean it.” 

Right now, Derek was angry at Scott for not answering his phone and leaving them stranded like this but he’d never actually wanted to hurt Scott. He admired Scott. Trying to get Scott into his pack wasn’t just about fulfilling his promise to Adam to keep to Scott safe. He wanted Scott as a friend. 

“Stiles, when are you going to accept that I don’t want to hurt Scott?” 

“That’s funny, considering that you kicked the crap out of him at the ice rink a few days ago.” 

“After he kicked the crap out of Erica and Isaac. He started that fight.” 

Stiles gave an amused huff of breath that brushed warm against his ear. Derek was glad for either the paralytic or the water stopping his body from responding, because that little breath brought back a lot of memories. 

“He started it?” Stiles said. “That’s really the defence you’re going for?” 

“Is this really the right time to have this argument?” Derek asked. 

“Have you got somewhere better to be?” 

Derek looked to the side of the pool, where the creature was still prowling. Sometimes it would disappear from sight, just long enough for Derek to think maybe they could make an escape, but then it would come out of the shadows again. He had no idea what this thing was or why it was after them, but it had clearly been here for a reason. The reason had to be one of them. It hadn’t seemed remotely interested in Erica after knocking her out of the way. So it was either Stiles or Derek. 

“You might be able to get out of here,” said Derek. 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, the creature let you go at the mechanic’s garage, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And tonight, it targeted me not you. It might let you go again.” 

“And what happens to you?” Stiles asked. 

That was the bit Derek didn’t want to think about. That creature had killed at least two people already. It was ripped Isaac’s father to pieces, and right now, Derek would be able to fight off an ant. 

“I’m not going to let you die,” Stiles said. 

“You can’t say you didn’t think about it,” Derek said. When he’d been down at the bottom of the pool, he’d actually thought Stiles might go through with it. He’d been scared quite often recently, mostly with fear of losing Stiles. The idea that Stiles might let him die somehow reached new heights of terror. 

“Derek, I’m not going to let you die. The fact that I’ve pulled you out of the water twice now should give you a clue.” Stiles sounded angry. “And you’re wrong, you know.” 

“About what?” 

“About trust. You said I don’t trust you but you’re wrong. You shoved me out of the way and told me to run when this thing attacked. You got between me and Isaac on the full moon to keep me safe. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Derek.” 

Maybe it was the lizard venom at work, but Derek thought his heart skipped a beat. Stiles had noticed how Derek had acted. He’d noticed how Derek felt. 

“Maybe it’s because you want Scott in your pack and you think this will help,” Stiles went on, “but for all your threats, you keep protecting me. You might not trust me, but I trust you, and I’d hope that tonight would help a bit with the whole you-trusting-me thing.” 

It wasn’t a declaration of love. It wasn’t Stiles admitting that he cared for Derek. But it was something. It was a tiny hint that maybe Adam’s feelings for him might be in there somewhere. It was a hint that maybe Derek might get Adam back one day. 

He sniffed. 

“Oh my god! Are you crying?” asked Stiles. 

“No! I’ve got chlorine in my eyes from when you dumped me to the bottom of the pool.” 

“Yeah, well, that might happen again.” 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

“I can’t stay up any longer,” Stiles said. His breath was coming in pants now from the effort. “I need something to hold on to.” 

***

Derek’s muscles were beginning to respond again and he went to find Erica. She’d been knocked senseless by the creature and it had scratched her with its claws as well, so she’d been immobilised for the whole time Derek and Stiles had been in the pool. She sat up, groggy and struggling to move still. 

“What the hell was that thing?” she asked. 

“I don’t know, but I know someone who might. Can I borrow your phone?” 

His phone had been in his pocket and was as ruined as Stiles’. He took Erica’s, dialling the number without even having to look it up now. It was probably a sign that he’d been using Bookworm as a resource too much. 

“Bookworm?” he asked, when the phone was answered. “It’s Derek Hale.” 

“What can I do for you this time?” she asked. 

“I need information on a creature, something that attacked me.” 

“You know my price.” He could picture her smile as she said it. “Something of his. Something he’s read recently.” 

“I’ll send you something, but I need information now.” 

“Alright,” she said. “Tell me what you know.” 

“It’s a lizard of some sort,” Derek said, “with paralysing venom in its claws.” 

“Sounds like a kanima.” 

“A what?” 

“A kanima. It’s a lizard creature with paralysing venom in its claws.” 

Derek started to glare, even though it was a useless technique against someone on the other end of a phone line at the other end of the country. 

“Can you tell me anything _useful_?” he asked. 

“If it’s a kanima, then it’s a shape shifter and can sometimes be confused or distracted by its reflection. They tend to have specific targets; they’re not random killers. Not early on, anyway. A kanima is what you get sometimes when a transformation into a werewolf or other shifting creature goes wrong. A person gets caught in the middle and ends up something else entirely. It rare but it can happen. Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person that you are. I’ll send you more information when I get your payment, but that should help you at least figure out who you’re kanima is. Start looking at anyone who’s had a werewolf bite recently.” 

“Thanks.” 

Derek hung up the phone and handed it back to Erica. She looked at him curiously; she’d been listening in to both sides of the conversation. 

“Who was that?” she asked. 

“A contact. Someone who knows a lot about the supernatural world.” 

“And who was she talking about when she talked about her price?” 

Derek hesitated. Bookworm was dangerous. It might be best to keep the rest of the pack out of her influence. 

“You let me worry about that,” he said. “We should go tell Scott what we know.” He hesitated. “And don’t mention Bookworm to him. He doesn’t need to know about her.” 

***

“Where are you? Where are you?” Stiles muttered, digging through the rubble under his bed, pulling out stray socks, scraps of paper, a fallen lacrosse ball and other debris that had drifted under there over time. No sign of the book. He went back to his bedside table, checking the drawers again, checking to see it hadn’t fallen down the back. 

“Come on, where are you?” he muttered. He could have sworn he’d left the book on his bedside table. He was less than fifty pages from the end and needed to find out how Peter Grant would defeat the Punch and Judy ghost. If he could find the damn book. 

“You lost something?” Scott asked, walking into the room. Stiles jumped a little, and then went back to digging through the contents of his desk. 

“The book I was reading. I was at a really exciting part too. There was a riot and everything.” 

“Is it in the shower?” Scott asked, referring to an incident when Stiles had been so desperate to find out what happened next in a book that he’d taken that book literally everywhere, until he’d managed to take it into the shower and make the end completely unreadable. 

“I only did that once and in my defence it was a really good book. This one, I was sure was on my bedside table but now I can’t find it anywhere.” 

He got down on his hands and knees to check the floor around and under his desk. Nothing. 

“Maybe someone moved it,” Scott suggested. 

“My dad knows better than to move my books by now.” 

“Someone else, maybe?” Scott suggested. He had his head tilted back, like he was sniffing the air. 

“No one else has been in here.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I mean, who else would be in my room?” 

***

Derek was aware of someone else in the depot only an instant before Scott was there, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him against the wall. Derek was surprised enough that he didn’t react in time to throw Scott off. Scott pinned him against the wall, yellow eyes glaring into Derek’s from his werewolf face. He could probably break free, even without transforming into his alpha form, but he was curious enough to wait and see what Scott had to say. 

“Stay away from Stiles,” Scott growled. 

“I protected him from the kanima,” Derek said. 

“I’m talking about after that. I’m talking about you going into his bedroom and stealing his stuff. All those times I’ve caught you outside his house, you’ve always had some excuse, but there isn’t one this time to excuse your stalking.” 

“I’m not stalking Stiles,” Derek said. He wasn’t, not really. OK, so he kept an eye out for Stiles, but that wasn’t the same thing. 

“Then what possible reason could you have for stealing his book?” 

Derek probably should have expected this. Scott must have picked up his scent in Stiles’ room. No wonder he was so freaked out. If Scott knew what Derek wanted to do to Stiles, Scott wouldn’t just be blustering. He’d actually try to kill him. 

“I have a contact in New York,” Derek said, “who knows about the supernatural. I asked her for information about kanimas. For payment, she takes second hand books.” 

Scott looked simultaneously angry and confused, “That makes no sense. Why would she want old books?” 

“It’s just what she does. Give her a book, she gives you information.” 

Scott’s grip loosened slightly. He must be listening to Derek’s heartbeat, figuring out that this wasn’t a lie. Besides, if Derek was going to lie, he’d come up with a story a little less ridiculous-sounding than the reality of Bookworm. 

“Why didn’t you give her one of your books?” Scott asked. 

He’d relaxed enough now. Derek brought his hands up to Scott’s wrists and twisted. A suddenly leaning of weight, a kick at Scott’s legs, and Scott twisted round in the air and landed on his front in front of Derek. Derek put his foot in the middle of Scott’s back and pressed down, just hard enough to make a point. 

Then he stepped back, letting Scott climb to his feet, snarling again in Derek’s direction. 

“Look around you,” Derek said, gesturing at the rail depot, furnished with a few scraps that they’d pulled out of skips and off the street. “Do you see any books round here?” 

Scott looked around, he calmed slightly, “I guess not. Did you get anything useful.” 

“I’ve only just posted her the book. We’ll have to wait a couple of days.” 

In the meantime, he had to figure out who the kanima was. Bookworm had said that a kanima came into being when a werewolf transformation went wrong. Derek had seen Jackson bleeding black goo after he’d received the bite. He seemed like the obvious suspect.


	9. Venomous - Restraint

Derek left Scott at the lacrosse pitch, to help his pack in finding Lydia. Lydia had failed the test. The venom hadn’t worked on her. That meant she was the kanima. He thought. He had to be sure though. Scott had said she might be immune and, even though he’d never heard of that happening, he had to check. He had to be sure. He couldn’t just kill an innocent girl because he thought she was a killer. If he did that, he’d be no better than the Argents. 

There was one person who would know if it was possible to be immune. So he was on the phone yet again to Bookworm. 

“You still owe me a book,” she said. 

“It’s in the mail. You’ll have it, but I need the information now.” 

“If that book doesn’t come, I will make you regret it.” 

“You’ll get the damn book! It’s a book he’s been reading within the last few days. Now, please, I need to know something important.” 

“Ask your questions.” 

“I know the kanima venom works on humans and werewolves. Does it work on everyone?” 

“Almost,” Bookworm answered. “Humans, werewolves, kitsune, fairies, nymphs, dryads. It would probably even work on me if you got the dose big enough.” 

“So if someone ingested kanima venom and didn’t react, then they’re the kanima?” 

“Or they’re some form of undead.” 

“Undead?” Derek asked. That wasn’t an answer he’d expected to hear. 

“Yes, undead. They’re generally immune to most poisonous agents. So if you’re dealing with a zombie or a lich or a vampire or something of that sort, then they wouldn’t react to the venom.” 

Derek looked towards the school, where Lydia was walking around with all the other students in the middle of the day. He was pretty sure she wasn’t a vampire because she’d been out in daylight, and he didn’t think she was acting like a zombie either. She definitely wasn’t a lich. 

“There is someone here that was bitten by an alpha,” Derek said. “She survived but she didn’t turn. She didn’t react to the venom. Is she the kanima?” 

Bookworm didn’t answer at once, “You’re asking me to make a judgement about a person I haven’t seen. The world is full of infinite possibilities so I can’t say anything with absolute certainty. I can only infer probabilities from the information you have provided me.” 

“So infer,” Derek said. He paced a few steps back and forth in front of the school, frustrated at Bookworm’s hedging. He wanted an answer. 

“There are other possibilities. As I said, the undead are immune to many things, including kanima venom and werewolf bites. However, if she shows no sign of being undead, and given that you have seen a kanima, I think it’s far more likely that you’re right and that she’s the one you’re looking for.” 

“Thank you,” Derek said. He wasn’t sure if this was the answer he’d hoped for. He wasn’t sure if he wanted confirmation that he knew who to target, or an excuse not to go after her. It wasn’t just that he’d be going up against Scott; she was just a kid. He didn’t want to kill her. 

“Good. I’d better get my book after all this,” Bookworm said. 

“You will.” 

***

His dad gave Stiles a shove into the bedroom. 

“You are going to stay here,” he said. “You’re only coming out for meals and school. Do you understand me?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. His dad had been angry at him before, but never like this. This wasn’t an anger of yelling and speaking sharply. This was something else entirely. This was something cold, laced with regret and sadness. There was pain and disappointment in it that Stiles didn’t know how to deal with. 

Stiles turned to face the door as his dad started to leave. 

“Dad,” he said. 

“What?” There was that anger again. Stiles blinked furiously. He didn’t want to start crying. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His dad didn’t say anything. He walked away. 

Stiles closed the bedroom door. He sank down onto the floor in front of it and wrapped his arms around his knees. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make things right. His dad thought he was some kind of delinquent and he couldn’t say anything to convince him otherwise. 

Stiles leaned his head forward and sobbed into his knees, huddled up into a ball behind his bedroom door. 

He looked up at the slight noise of his bedroom window opening from the outside. Heart racing, he scrambled to his feet, grabbing his lacrosse stick as the closest thing he had to a weapon. He crossed the room, drawing his breath to scream if he had to. What if it was Jackson here to finish the job? 

A moment later, Derek dropped through the open window. Stiles swung the stick. Derek caught it effortlessly and then yanked it out of Stiles’ grip. He tossed the stick on the bed. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

Derek looked at his, a puzzled frown crossed his face. 

“Are you OK?” Derek asked. Of all things Stiles might have thought Derek would say, that was so far down the list it was in Antarctica. He almost sounded concerned. 

“Well, there’s still a kanima out there killing people that we don’t know how to stop, a family of hunters keep threatening to kill my best friend, and my dad hates me. Other than that, everything’s peachy.” 

“Your dad doesn’t hate you, Stiles.” 

“Look, I really don’t want to have this conversation with you, Derek, so maybe you should tell me why the hell you’re breaking into my bedroom.” 

“I came to find out if you’ve learned anything else useful about the kanima.” 

Stiles wondered if he should tell Derek that Jackson was the kanima. He’d tried to kill Lydia when he’d thought it was her, so it was a safe bet that he’d try to kill Jackson, but Stiles wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing. If Jackson killed more people, then it would be partly their fault because they knew and didn’t stop him when they had the chance. 

“Stiles, you know something, don’t you?” 

Stiles didn’t look Derek in the eye. 

“Do you know who it is?” Derek asked. 

Stiles still didn’t look him in the eye. 

“You might want to keep your voice down,” he said. “My dad’s right downstairs and he’s already mad enough at me that I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds a former fugitive in my bedroom.” 

“Stiles, this thing is dangerous. It’s strong and fast and deadly. If you know who it is, you’ve got to tell me.” 

Derek took a step closer. He was standing right in front of Stiles now. Stiles could feel the warmth of his body. How the hell did one person get that hot? And he had to shut down that train of thought before the word association had him considering the other definitions of the word hot while he was standing in front of a guy who could pick up on emotions. Stiles focused on the fact that Derek was intruding into his life uninvited and had nearly killed an innocent person. He let himself feel the anger for that, because it was better than thinking about the fact that Derek was close enough to kiss. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Stiles said. “Last I checked, I’m not part of your wolf pack.” 

Derek took a step back. He looked away. 

“You could be,” he said. 

“Could be what?” 

“You could be part of my pack. If you wanted to be.” 

Again, not something Stiles had expected to hear. He supposed it made sense, in a twisted way. Derek had been trying to get Scott to side with him, so getting Stiles into the pack would be a help to winning him over. Stiles focused once again on anger, because he wasn’t going to let himself be used against Scott like that. 

“If I didn’t want the bite from Peter,” Stiles said, “what the hell makes you think I’ll want it from you?” 

Now it was Derek’s turn to look surprised, “Peter offered you the bite?” 

“Yeah. After he attacked Lydia, when he got me to help track you down. He said I could have the bite if I wanted it.” 

“Huh.” 

Derek seemed astonished the Peter would have offered, astonished that Peter would want Stiles in his pack. That was proof enough that he didn’t want Stiles in the pack for Stiles’ sake. 

“Look, just get out of here,” Stiles said. “Go back to your wolf den and leave me alone.” 

He expected Derek to argue or threaten or just demand more answers. Instead, Derek just nodded and headed for the window. He paused with a leg over the frame and looked back, meeting Stiles’ gaze. 

“Your dad doesn’t hate you, Stiles. You’re family. Family is important.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure that meant much coming from a guy who’d killed his own uncle. He said nothing and just watched Derek leave. He closed the window behind him; he really needed to get a better latch for this thing. 

As he stood in his room, alone again, Stiles wondered why it bothered him so much that Derek was only using him to get to Scott. Maybe it was because in that moment, when Derek had been standing so close to him, a tiny, crazy part of Stiles had maybe hoped that Derek might be interested in him. 

“Stiles,” his dad’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Come down and get your dinner.” 

Stiles headed down to the kitchen for one of the most painfully awkward meals of his existence. They sat in silence. Each stared at their own food, eating without words or so much as eye contact. Eventually, Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. Something had been on his mind all dinner. It was probably the least of his issues given that there were murdering psychopathic lizards out there, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Dad,” he said quietly. “There’s something I’ve got to say and it’s pretty important.” 

“OK.” 

“The other night, when you found me at Jungle, you said I couldn’t be gay because of how I dress.” 

“Stiles, I’m pretty confident you’re not gay because I’ve seen the way you act around Lydia.” 

“But... but what if it’s not just Lydia? What if I met someone else and found that I found them attractive in spite of the fact that they are of the... erm... male persuasion?” 

His dad set down his fork. In the short silence, Stiles stared at the contents of his dinner plate, wondering if there was any possible way he could make his father more disappointed in him. 

“Stiles, are you telling me you’re attracted to guys as well as girls?” 

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. One guy anyway.” 

“Is it Scott?” 

Stiles looked his dad in the face for the first time all meal, “God, no! Scott is my bro.” 

“Is it Jackson? Is that what this is about?” 

Stiles made a disgusted face, “Ugh! No! Jackson’s a douche.” 

“Then was he giving you a hard time because he found out you were interesting in guys?” 

Stiles saw his dad looking for an excuse, looking for some reason behind what had happened with Jackson, so way to understand it. Stiles wished the explanation were that simple. 

“It’s not like that,” Stiles said. “Jackson’s a jerk to everyone about everything, but he’s not a homophobe. He’s Danny’s best friend. This has nothing to do with Jackson.” 

“OK.” 

“Are you... are you angry about this?” 

His dad took a breath. Then another. Stiles started to think he was never going to speak. Stiles considered running back up to his room to hide so he didn’t have to hear the answer. 

“Stiles, I’m angry at you for kidnapping one of your classmates. I’m angry at you for stealing a police vehicle. I’m angry at you for the fact you’ve lied to me so often that I can’t even tell when you’re lying to me anymore. But I’m not angry about this. It doesn’t matter to me if you like girls or guys or both or neither. As long as it makes you happy, I’m happy. You’re my son.” 

Stiles found himself tearing up again. After everything he’d done to make his dad hate him lately, those words worked their way straight through to his heart. 

“Just remember,” his dad said, “that there has been enough criminal activity in this household and you’re underage. So nothing, and I mean nothing, is to happen physically or I’ll make this punishment seem like a walk in the park.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Stiles said. “I’m pretty sure he hates me.” 

His dad reached out and put his hand on Stiles’ arm. 

***

The book arrived in the mail. A novel with a bookmark still tucked in the back. Bookworm knew which book it was before she opened the package. She could smell it, feel Adam’s touch over it. She ran her fingers over the cover, tracing the lines in the spine. He’d enjoyed this story, laughing with it, trying to forget the troubles that lurked in his real life. 

She opened it up, starting at the first page. Slowly, she worked her way along, line after line, absorbing the words and savouring the essence of Adam, the way he had been when he’d read them. 

There was no power to it yet, no magic. He was still just a boy, frightened in a world too big for him. He read of ghosts and murders, losing himself in a tale that wasn’t real, knowing that it would all wrap up nicely at the end and the good guys would win. Wishing that the real world could be so conforming. 

He was still trying to fight, still trying to protect, but he didn’t have any weapons yet. He felt powerless. He was the helpless one in the world of monsters and heroes. 

She read the words and drank him in. Poor, lost soul, not quite broken yet. He was clay still in the process of being moulded, a shape as yet unformed. He had no idea what he was capable of, no idea of the horrors and wonders still in store. She read on until she reached the point at which his presence stopped. His last thoughts lingered on the page, eager to know more. She knew how he felt. 

She brought the book up to her face and breathed him in. 

Then the shop door opened. It was the kitsune girl, back for more tales of magic and myth. Bookworm set the book down to smile a greeting at her customer.


	10. Raving - Fury

Bookworm felt it when the spark lit. Her books sang to her, carrying with them the sweet sound of his power. It was such a little thing, just a tiny spark of will to set a simple spell. It was gone within minutes, the spell broken, but it was real. It was solid. 

Stiles was becoming Adam. The whisper of his power flowed from its source. The spark wasn’t bright yet. It was a tiny flicker in the darkness. But it would grow. 

She wasn’t the only one who felt it. Less than half an hour after the incident, Amelia came running into the bookshop. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement as well as the exercise. 

“Don’t you have your magic workshops tonight?” Bookworm asked. 

“We felt him. All of us who’ve ever joined a circle with him, we felt something tonight. Just for a moment.” 

“The spark lighting,” Bookworm said, nodding. 

“He really is alive.” Amelia gave a little laugh, her grin was splitting her face. “Where is he?” 

Amelia didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know where Adam had really come from, so she could have no idea that the young man she’d considered a friend would have no idea who she was. She couldn’t understand that he would have no clue what was going on and that he was in no way ready to accept what Amelia wanted of him, or what Bookworm did. They would both have to be patient. 

Bookworm gave a cold smile, “That information is something you can’t afford.” 

***

Derek sat in Deaton’s clinic, watching Scott sleep. It had been close tonight. Scott had nearly died. Derek watched Scott slowly breathing in and out and he knew he couldn’t pretend anymore that he was just protecting Scott because Adam had asked him to. When Scott had howled, when he’d called for help, it had sounded like pack. Scott might not want to be part of Derek’s pack, but Derek still felt like Scott was, like he had a responsibility to protect Scott. 

It had been a long night and a rough one, but there had been moments of joy. He’d seen Stiles celebrating about the mountain ash barrier. A simple spell, one that Adam had felt comfortable teaching others about because he’d done it so often. This was the first time he’d made a barrier, the first time he’d performed magic. Tonight had been his first step towards becoming Adam. 

Assuming he wanted to be Adam. Derek had offered Stiles a part in his pack, he’d tried to welcome him, but Stiles had turned him down. Stiles had dismissed him with such venom that it had felt like losing Adam all over again. Stiles didn’t want to be part of his pack. Stiles didn’t want to be with him. Derek had a pack again, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel complete. 

Derek reached under his shirt and pulled out the amulet out from where it rested against his skin. He ran his finger over the triskele, still looking at Scott. There was no point asking, he knew. Scott wouldn’t accept his pack mark. Scott wouldn’t even accept Derek as an alpha; he acted more like he was an alpha himself. 

“That’s an interesting piece of jewellery.” 

Derek looked up. Deaton had returned and was looking at the amulet. He was staring at it with a kind of knowing intensity that made Derek more than a little uncomfortable. 

“Where did you get it?” Deaton asked. 

Derek looked up at him, wondering how much to say, “It was made as a gift for my sister.” 

“Made by whom?” 

“A friend.” 

Deaton held out a hand, “May I see it?” 

Derek tucked the amulet back under his shirt, out of sight. Deaton lowered his hand. He nodded. For some reason, he didn’t seem either surprised or upset by Derek’s response. 

“Your friend must have been very powerful,” Deaton said. “There’s a strong protective charm attached to that amulet.” 

“It was made for Laura. I can’t get it to work.” 

“Perhaps it’s already working.” 

“What do you mean?” Derek asked. 

“When you held it like that, I felt something. It’s kind of like a background buzz, like when you hear a fluorescent bulb. You don’t always notice it, but it’s there in the background. That amulet is still protecting something.” 

“What?” 

Deaton just shrugged away the question. 

*** 

Derek dreamed of Laura. The last thing he remembered was Lydia blowing some purple powder into his face and the scent of wolfsbane filling his nostrils. Now he stood in the darkness and smelled his sister’s scent. It smelled of home and safety and pack. It smelled of belonging. It smelled of family. The whole world had become just the two of them. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I left you alone.” 

“Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“Bookworm,” she answered. “Don’t trust her. She wants something from Adam. She wanted him in Beacon Hills. Something is going on that’s bigger than either of us. She wants Adam.” 

“Adam’s gone.” 

“No he’s not. His power is still here. His power is still protecting the pack.” 

In the dream, Laura was wearing the amulet. Somehow Derek could see both sides at once, see both symbols. They glowed silver under their own power, singing with the power of the full moon. She grabbed his hand and held it up to rest over the amulet. He felt it’s magic, the warmth that Adam gave it. 

“Derek, you have to be careful,” she said. 

“Why?” he asked. 

It wasn’t Laura who answered. A third voice joined their little conversation. 

“Because she’s not the only one who’s pack,” Peter said, walking out of the darkness. 

Derek wanted to move. He wanted to fight. He wanted to rip Peter’s throat out all over again for what he’d done to Laura. But he couldn’t move. He stood there weak and helpless and Peter reached them. With a cold smile, he reached out to touch the silver glow the floated around the amulet. 

“It really is beautiful, this magic he’s created,” Peter said, “this joining of pack and protection spells. It’s quite ingenious.” 

The silver light was growing brighter, like a beacon shining out, surrounding the three of them with warmth and power, joining them as one. One pack. The three spirals of the triskele bound together in magic under the light of the full moon. 

“Does he know what he is yet?” Peter asked. 

In this place, joined in this world of dreams, there was no point in Derek lying or bluffing or trying to hide anything from Peter. It was all out in the open, lying in the space between them, in the moonlight glow from Adam’s amulet. 

“He doesn’t know,” Derek answered. 

“Does he know you’re in love with him?”

“No.” 

“Such raw power,” Peter said. “Be sure to thank Adam for me, when you see him again. I couldn’t have done this without him.” 

“Done what?” Derek asked. 

Peter smiled at him, “This, of course.” 

In the dream world, Peter sank his claws into Derek’s chest, just above the heart. Derek felt the pain of it in a disconnected way, more aware of Laura standing beside him, bathed in the silver glow of the amulet. She was crying. She was whispering over and over again: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

The silver and darkness faded together into a painful gloom of a night beneath the full moon. His sister’s face vanished. Peter was gone too. Derek was aware of movement. He was being dragged along a rough floor. Something was going on here. Something to do with the amulet. Something to do with Peter. 

Derek forced his eyes open, seeing Lydia over him, dragging him. He still couldn’t move. The wolfsbane in his system made him too weak. 

“Lydia,” he managed to say. “Lydia.” He saw the hole in the floorboards where he’d buried his uncle. “Lydia, stop.” 

Derek still felt like he was part of a dream as Lydia placed his arm into the charred remains of Peter’s claw. This was what Peter wanted. Derek didn’t know how this was possible. He just knew that it was happening. 

***

Derek left the old house at as close to a run as he could manage, feeling the moon giving him a little bit of strength, but not enough. Not enough if he needed to fight Peter. And hunters. And a kanima. 

Around his neck, the amulet hung like a piece of wood. He couldn’t feel the power, but he knew that it was there still. Deaton had said that the amulet was still protecting something. It had been protecting Peter’s spirit somehow, enabling the spell that had just taken place. It was protecting Laura’s spirit still. 

That thought was enough to give Derek a little extra strength. If Peter could come back from the dead then maybe Laura could too. After all, the amulet had been made to protect her. Derek just needed to figure out exactly how Peter had done what he’d managed to do and maybe he could repeat it. He could get his sister back. 

But first he needed to find Scott. He needed to find Stiles. 

He needed to make sure they were both safe. 

He didn’t know how to save Laura. He needed Adam, needed him more than ever, but all he had was Stiles, and he didn’t even have him. Not really. He had to get Adam back. 

***

Derek hated feeling helpless. He’d thought it had been bad in the pool, being paralysed where drowning was an option. But now others were in danger too. Scott was here somewhere, and the sheriff and Scott’s mom. And Stiles was lying next to him, equally helpless. 

Derek had managed to get his claws out. He could feel the pain in his leg where he’d managed to dig them into his flesh, but he couldn’t do anything else. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t fight. He was useless. 

“Can you do anything?” Derek asked. 

“Like what?” Stiles asked back. 

“I don’t know. You did magic back at the club, can’t you do something now?” 

“At the club, I had a sack full of magic fairy dust and all I did was make a barrier. I can’t wave a magic wand and make everything alright. I can’t wave anything right now.” 

“Stiles, you’ve done magic before. So do something.” 

“What do you expect me to do?” 

“I don’t know. Will the poison out of your system. You’ve got magic inside you, so use it. Do something.” 

He’d seen Adam’s power. He’d felt Adam’s magic inside him. He’d watched his uncle come back from the dead using the power of an amulet Adam had made, using magic Adam hadn’t even known he was putting into it. Derek knew how strong Stiles was capable of being, but right now he didn’t believe it. If Derek could move his arms, he’d be tempted to hit Stiles round the head for being so oblivious to his own abilities. 

“I’m not some wizard, Derek,” Stiles said. 

“Can’t hurt to try. If hypothetically I can use magic healing to clear the venom, maybe you can use magic abilities to do the same to you.” 

“Right like that’s going to happen.” 

“What have you got to lose?” 

For a moment, Stiles was silent. That felt like a victory. Silence wasn’t exactly an easy thing to achieve with him. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll try,” Stiles said. 

A moment later, Derek felt something. He felt a faint warmth against his skin, where the amulet rested just above his heart. Derek closed his eyes and thought of Adam, thought of the night under the new moon when magic had joined them both. He was lying next to Adam again. It seemed like some cruel fate had given him what he’d wished for, but twisted it around into this screwed up situation. 

“Nothing’s happening,” Stiles said a few minutes later. The warmth of the amulet faded. 

“Just keep trying,” Derek said. “Maybe it’ll work for one of us.” 

The lay a minute more, Derek feeling the amulet warm again and letting it fuel his own will. Focusing his effort a little bit at a time on different parts of his body, trying to move them, trying to get a response from his muscles. 

“So,” Stiles said, “is that hypothetical situation we talked about getting any less hypothetical?” 

“I think so. I can move my toes.” 

***

Stiles was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for his dad. The place was nearly deserted. A couple of other people were sitting on the uncomfortable chairs and occasionally a doctor or nurse would wander through. Every time someone came in, Stiles looked up expectantly, hoping it would be his dad. The doctors thought he was going to be OK, but they wanted to check him out. So Stiles just sat there, hoping that nothing had gone wrong. Head injuries could be nasty things and he’d been out cold at the station. 

“Hey,” someone said. Stiles looked up to see Derek standing there. 

“Hey?” Stiles said. What the hell was Derek doing here? It wasn’t like he needed a hospital. 

“Are you OK?” Derek asked. 

“Yeah. The venom’s out of my system. I feel perfectly normal again.” 

“Your dad?” 

Stiles shrugged, “Should be fine. Apparently.” 

His dad had nearly been killed tonight. A lot of other people had been. Stiles kept thinking back to the night at Jungle, when they’d captured Jackson. They could have put a stop to it then. 

“This is my fault,” Stiles said. 

“No. It’s not.” 

“We could have stopped Jackson. We had the chance and we didn’t take it. Now people are dead.” 

“Because Matt chose to kill them. You’re not responsible. You can’t blame yourself for this, Stiles.” 

"You don't understand." 

Derek sighed. He came to sit down next to Stiles in one of the uncomfortable chairs. His eyes scanned the room, picking out the location of the other people. Then he turned to Stiles, who twisted in his seat so he could look at Derek better. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what was going on here or why Derek was behaving in this decidedly un-Derek-like way. 

“I do understand,” Derek said, “because I know exactly what it’s like. I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone. Not even my sister. Only two other people have ever known this and one of them was involved and both them are gone.” 

“Does that mean you’ll have to kill me if you tell me?” Stiles asked, not completely joking. 

“It means I might kill you if you tell anyone. I used to date Kate Argent.” 

Stiles’ mouth fell open in a moment of silent confusion. He just stared at Derek and waited for his thoughts to get started again because his brain had completely stalled. 

“Um. What?” 

“She was a few years older than me and unbelievably hot,” Derek said, “and she managed to convince me I was in love with her. She used me to find out about my family, about our house, about our defences. She used me to learn all the things she needed to know in order to murder them. Kate Argent killed my family because I helped her. So, yes, I do understand what it’s like to feel responsible for people’s deaths.” 

Stiles was still staring. He couldn’t imagine Derek thinking himself in love with anyone but maybe this was why. Maybe this was why Derek refused to trust anyone. A betrayal like that had to cut him to the soul. 

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for what Kate did,” Stiles said. “She was a psychopath.”

“And Matt wasn’t?” 

“That’s different. You didn’t know that Kate was a killer. Scott and I knew what Jackson could do and we didn’t stop him when we had the chance.” 

“Stiles, you were trying to save him. Don’t feel bad for that. If I’m not responsible for Kate, you shouldn’t feel responsible for Matt.” 

Stiles looked up at him, “Why do you care? Why are you even here? Let me guess, you were overwhelmed with feelings of concern and compassion for me and needed to check on my well-being?” He let the sting of sarcasm fill his words. Derek looked away. 

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” Derek asked. “If I said that I came here to check you were OK?” 

“I’d think there was something wrong with you.” 

The second Stiles finished saying those words, he gave Derek another look and wondered if there was something wrong with him. Derek actually looked rough. Now that Stiles looked at him more closely, Derek looked upset. It was hard to tell; his face was usually such a mask that feelings were hard to make out. Tonight though, he looked paler than usual. 

“Is there something wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Stiles said. 

“I kinda have.” 

“What?” 

Derek looked back at Stiles, meeting his eyes, “Something weird happened tonight. Something I can’t fully explain. Something terrible.” 

“Worse than Jackson murdering a bunch of cops?” 

“A lot worse. My uncle is back from the dead.”


	11. Master Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter this time, but it takes us to the second of season two.

“You owe me something,” Derek snarled down the phone as he paced the ruined house, avoiding the hole in the floorboards where his uncle had clawed his way up from the grave. Derek felt able to snarl because he was a few hundred miles away from Bookworm, away from the reach of her power. 

“Do I?” asked Bookworm, perfectly pleasant. 

“Yes. I gave you what you asked for. I gave you your payment, and your information about how to deal with a kanima was useless.” 

“I gave you what I could. Kanimas are rare, there’s not a lot of information out there and I don’t know everything.” 

“Well people died. A lot of people. And other people nearly died. _Stiles_ nearly died! And your information didn’t help at all. I got more from my dead uncle!” 

Bookworm didn’t respond at once. Maybe she was trying to process the last sentence. 

“I sent you that book in payment for information,” Derek said, a little more calmly now, “so I want information. I want to know how my uncle came back from the dead.” 

“No you don’t,” Bookworm said. “You want to know if it could happen again.” 

“Yes! Alright, yes. I want to know if it can happen again. I want to know if I can bring Laura back.” 

“No.” 

She said it with certainty. She said it calmly and quietly and without a shadow of hesitation. Derek brought his hand up to feel the amulet through his shirt, the last trace of Laura he had left. He swallowed and tried not to let his eyes fill with tears. 

“ _You_ can’t,” Bookworm continued. 

“What do you mean?” 

“The spell is difficult and requires a considerable amount of power. It also requires care, timing and skill. It requires somebody with a connection to the dead. And it requires a spirit trap, an object to capture the person’s soul at the moment of death so that they can be restored later.” 

“I think I’ve got that,” Derek said. He could feel the lines of the carving through the fabric of his shirt, the curves of the triskele. 

“It’s not enough. You won’t be able to restore her. But, with a bit of help, Adam might.” 

“Adam’s gone.” 

Bookworm laughed. The sound carried down the phone line, amusement and cruelty in a few short breaths. If she’d been standing in front of him, Derek might have hit her. It was probably a good job she wasn’t standing in front of him because he would have lost an arm. 

“Adam is in the process of being born,” Bookworm said. “I felt his spark. His power is starting to form.” 

“He could save Laura?”

“Perhaps, but not yet. He has to finish becoming.” 

Derek remembered the dreamt conversation he’d had with Laura, the visions when Peter had been coming back. She had warned him not to trust Bookworm. She had warned him that Bookworm wanted something to do with Adam, to do with Stiles. 

“Becoming what?” Derek asked. 

Bookworm laughed again, “Patience. When the time is right, when he is ready, then I might give you want you want to save your sister. But the price will be high.” 

Derek swallowed. There was something in her tone that reminded him of Peter. This was about more than information. This was about power. 

“What price?” Derek asked. 

“All in good time. Remember though, a life doesn’t come for free. Not for your uncle. Not for your sister.” 

***

“My dear nephew, is this really where you’ve been living?” Peter asked, looking about the depot with distain. He walked over to a crate that had been serving as a table and ran his finger along the wood before looking at the dusty residue that action left of his fingertip. Derek glowered at him. 

“If you don’t like it, feel free to leave. Or just drop dead.” 

“I already tried that,” Peter said. “I didn’t particularly enjoy it.” 

“I still want to understand how you came back.” 

Peter gave that cold, nasty smirk. He walked back to Derek and it took a lot of restraint not to step backwards. Derek had to remind himself with every breath that he didn’t have to back away from Peter. Peter wasn’t the alpha here anymore. 

“It wasn’t easy,” Peter said. “So many pieces that needed to fit together.” He reached out to touch Derek’s chest, finding on the first attempt the wooden amulet worn underneath his shirt. “It took power. A lot of power. I wonder if this thing has any juice left in it now.” 

Derek knew what Peter was hinting at, suggesting that Laura might not be in there anymore. Derek knew that wasn’t true. He’d felt the thing respond that night at the sheriff’s station when Stiles had tried to do magic. This thing had power as long as Stiles did. The more powerful Stiles became, the more likely Derek was to get his sister back. Stiles just needed to learn to harness his abilities. 

Derek pushed Peter’s hand aside. 

“You were never meant to be an alpha,” Peter said. “You know that, don’t you? Some people have inside them a natural quality which lets them be a leader. It doesn’t matter that you have the power now or that your eyes can turn red, you still don’t have the ability to be an alpha.” 

“And you do? You’re a psychopathic killer who lured his own niece here in order to kill her.” 

“Which just goes to prove I’ve got a mind for strategy. Look how well things have worked out for me. They could work out for you too.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I didn’t come here just to criticise your taste in interior design, although really, Derek? Is this place the best you can do?” 

“Why are you here?” Derek said. It nearly came out as a growl. 

“I came to give you this.” Peter pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it out. Derek took it cautiously, sniffing just in case it contained something more than paper and ink. He opened it and looked inside, seeing a letter and a cheque made out in his name. He looked at the letterhead on the paper. 

“You took out a life insurance policy?” he asked. 

“For Laura. It seemed the pragmatic thing to do and I couldn’t stay in that hospital forever. That’s your half of the money.” 

He’d seen his uncle be cold and malicious, but he couldn’t have pictured something this callously calculating. Peter had taken out an insurance policy on Laura before bringing her here to be killed. And he’d had the nerve to claim that killing Laura had been an accident, an animal instinct he couldn’t control. 

Derek wanted to rip Peter’s throat out all over again. 

Peter turned his back on Derek and walked away calling out, “You might want to find a better place to live,” as he went. 

Derek considered tearing the cheque to pieces and shoving those pieces down his uncle’s throat. But that wouldn’t bring Laura back. Accepting the money wouldn’t make him an accomplice. It wouldn’t mean he accepted what his uncle had done or that he forgave him. It would just make his life a bit easier. He didn’t think his sister would object to that. 

He pulled the amulet out from under his shirt and looked at it. He hoped she wouldn’t object. 

***

The anniversary came round again, like every other year. This year though, he would face it alone. Every year, he’d shared this moment of grief with his sister. Last year, he’d shared it with Adam. Now he had no one left. He couldn’t share this with Scott or Isaac. He definitely wasn’t going to share it with Peter. 

He wanted to share it with Stiles. 

Stiles was somewhere out there, oblivious to who he might be. He was running around with Scott, happy and innocent, thinking that the war was won just because there was a ceasefire for a time. Stiles didn’t know what lay ahead and neither did Derek really, but Derek was pretty sure that the worse wasn’t over. He could fit some of what Adam had told him to the recent events. Adam had told him that people had died because of him, and that had been his reaction after Jackson’s rampage at the sheriff’s station. Adam had talked about the alpha and Kate, and those things had happened. But, despite all the pain that they’d been through, it wasn’t enough to explain everything. 

Derek knew it wasn’t over, but he was going to shield Stiles from that knowledge for as long as possible. Let him have his peace for a time. 

One of them should have peace. 

Derek went back to the house alone and sat in the ruins. He’d taken the book with him, that old copy of A Little Princess that he’d had Neil and Amelia send when they’d packed up the apartment in New York. He sat on the stairs in the ruined home and turned to the chapter in the middle, the same chapter that Laura always read when she was upset. 

He started reading aloud. 

He knew the words now so well that they didn’t really register. They flowed over his tongue and into the silence, whispering into the darkness and dissolving in the shadows. Tears trickled slowly but he blinked them away so that they didn’t blur his view of the page. His voice cracked and choked around sobs, but it didn’t matter. There was no one to hear it. 

In the end, he just closed the book and held it to his heart, hugging it to him as he cried. 

Around his neck, the amulet glowed faintly silver, and Derek cried harder.


	12. Tattoo - Unleashed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm jumping through several episodes in this chapter. Hopefully everything still makes sense.

It was difficult, listening to Scott talking about open wounds, with Stiles standing right there, looking more like Adam every day. Derek hadn’t seen him in weeks and then he walked into that old house, hair longer, body more toned, and he Derek couldn’t even breathe. Derek could have been looking at Adam. Every word that Scott said about the pain of losing Allison felt like salt in the open wound left in Derek’s heart. And Stiles was standing right there. Oblivious. 

Derek lit the torch, ready to mark Scott, and Stiles babbled some excuse about leaving. Derek put out a hand to stop him. 

“Nope,” Derek said. “You can help hold him down.” 

Stiles looked hesitant and pale. Derek remembered the first time Adam had gotten a tattoo and the way he’d reacted them. Maybe he’d been remembering this. Maybe this moment was marked in his mind as what a tattoo was like. Either way, Derek couldn’t do this if Scott was moving, so Stiles went to Scott’s chair and put hands on Scott’s shoulders to keep him still. 

Derek put the torch against flesh, searing the skin. He remembered what this had been like for him, getting the triskele mark in his skin, the pain. It had felt right though, to mark himself as one of the pack. 

This felt right too, in a way. Even with Scott screaming and half transforming, watching the dark marks form on Scott’s skin seemed to be right. Derek wondered if this was, in some strange way, Scott’s way of marking his pack. Scott wasn’t an alpha in the traditional sense, but he wasn’t really a beta or an omega either. People followed him. Maybe this tattoo was him, on some subconscious level, recognising that he needed to define his pack. 

Scott passed out before Derek had finished, which was probably for the best. Derek kept going until the two rings were complete, wrapping around the arm. Stiles held Scott’s arm out so that Derek could reach underneath. He looked like was about to throw up. 

At last, Derek was done. He turned off the torch. 

Only then did Stiles let go of Scott and stumble away. 

“Oh my god, that was horrible,” he said. “Why the hell do you do this to yourselves? I mean, getting a tattoo is bad enough by why would you put yourself through pain like that for the sake of a few marks?” 

“That marks mean something,” Derek said. “There are pack markings. Like the triskele. Every werewolf pack has their own symbol. It’s like an instinct to show where we belong, who we belong with. Getting the mark is a rite of passage.” 

“So you let someone burn you into unconsciousness as a rite of passage? You know, most cultures left that kind of ritual mutilation behind centuries ago.” 

“You’ll understand one day.” 

“No I really think I won’t.” 

Derek put away the torch. He didn’t want to look at Stiles right now. He didn’t want to see him looking like Adam. Adam had accepted the pack mark, he’d asked to be tattooed as belonging with Derek. Stiles looked at him like he sick for even wanting this. 

“Does this mean,” Stiles went on, “that Scott is part of your pack now? Because you’ve marked him?” 

“Just the opposite. If he was joining my pack, he’d be marked with my pack’s symbol. Scott’s chosen his own. He’s always chosen his own. He’ll never be part of my pack now.” 

“Please tell me that doesn’t mean you guys will go back to kicking the crap out of each other, because living through that once was enough.” 

Derek gave a laugh. He shot Stiles a reassuring smile, “No. I think Scott and I are done with the territorial displays.” 

Scott picked that moment to regain consciousness, sitting up with a gasp and looking down at the mark on his arm. 

“It worked,” he said, sounding rather surprised about it. 

***

Stiles walked slowly back to his jeep. He wasn’t feeling much in the mood for a party anymore and it seemed like Scott had disappeared too. He knew he wasn’t the most attractive guy in the world but he’d thought being sent to get a condom was a pretty good sign that Heather was into him. This sucked. He was used to being ignored by Lydia, but to have a girl all over him, talking about sex and then just vanish... that was rude. 

If it had been anyone else, he’d have thought they were playing a joke on him, leading him on, but Heather wasn’t that mean. She must have just changed her mind and felt too bad about it to tell him. Or been worried that he wouldn’t react well to her changing her mind. 

Stiles slumped along the sidewalk back to where he’d parked. This was supposed to be a fun night. This was supposed to help take his mind off weirdness. He supposed that had been too much to ask. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles turned, looking into the darkness. Derek was there, walking down the street towards him. 

“What are you doing out here?” Derek asked. 

“I could ask you the same question.” 

“We’ve been running a search pattern across the entire town, trying to pick up Erica or Boyd’s scents. Are you OK?” 

Sympathy from Derek? He must really look pathetic. 

“I kinda got stood up,” Stiles said. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

“With you? Not really.” He got out his keys and started to unlock his jeep. Then he turned back to Derek, the rant forming. “It’s just, when a girl is kissing you and undoing your belt and saying that she wants to have sex for her birthday, you take that as a sign that she’s interested. You get certain expectations and then it kind of blows when she decides not to go through with it.” 

“Oh my god,” Derek said quietly. 

“What? Is the idea that someone might want to have sex with me so absurd that you can’t believe your ears?” 

Derek’s next move was so unexpected that Stiles couldn’t move for several seconds. Derek pulled him into a hug. 

“What the hell?” Stiles demanded. He pulled free, stepping back from Derek and holding up his car keys between them like they were a weapon. “What was that?” 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, stepping back and looking more than a little awkward. “It’s just... I’m sorry.” 

“Well, this kind and cuddly side of Derek Hale is kind of freaking me out.” 

Derek gave a soft laugh, “Would it make you feel better if I snarled and threatened to rip your throat out?” 

“Actually, yes. It would re-establish my sense of the natural order of the world.” 

“Alright then.” Derek took a step forward again, closing the distance between them. He leaned in tilting his head until his mouth was level with Stiles’ ear. He hand was on Stiles’ arm, just below the shoulder, his fingers warm and strong. When he spoke, it was in a soft, low voice that was somewhere between terrifying and pornographic. “I want to sink my teeth into your throat.” 

Stiles must be seriously messed up because there was no way that a sentence like that should sound so sexy. He wanted to let Derek attack him. He wanted to just drop his pants and let Derek do him on the hood of his jeep. He quickly pulled away from Derek before Derek could pick up on any of the things that were going through his head. 

“Thanks for that,” he said. “I should get going and let you get back to your search.” 

He nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get into the jeep. Derek just stood there on the sidewalk and let him. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, as Stiles started the engine, “I am sorry about your friend.” 

***

“Scott, can you hear me?” Stiles asked. “Scott?” 

All he heard from the end were snarls and cries of pain. Then the call cut off entirely. He tried not to panic. He tried not to picture his best friend bleeding to death in a bank vault, ripped to pieces by a couple of out of control werewolves. 

He leaned against the table, finding himself shaking. Scott was strong. He’d be OK. He had to be. 

“Well, it was nice having a nephew while it lasted,” Peter said, with as much feeling as someone discovering that they’d misplaced a quarter. 

“How can you be so calm about this?” Stiles asked. “Don’t you care? Oh, that’s right. You don’t care about anything, do you?” 

“It’s a shame what’s happening to them, but we did warn them. I did say it was risky.” 

“Maybe it would have been a bit less risky if you’d gone along and helped.” 

Peter gave a withering look, “Derek’s a big boy. He can clean up his own mess. I have other priorities.” 

“What are your priorities? I mean, did you come back from the dead just to be sarcastic at people?” 

Peter smirked slightly, “You really have no idea, do you?” 

Stiles had had it with this guy. He was scared and worried and hating being the useless one. He hated being the one left behind in the loft when others were risking their lives. He certainly didn’t want to be patronised by the evil uncle from hell. 

“No,” Stiles said, “I have no idea. That’s kind of why I asked. You see that’s how this whole communication thing works. You start off with no idea, so you ask a question, and then you know what’s going on.” 

Peter still had that smug, patronising look on his face, like he knew something Stiles didn’t and it was the most important thing in the world and he was secretly laughing behind his eyes. 

“I guess my dear nephew thinks he’s protecting you.” He considered for a second. “Thought, anyway.” 

“He’s not dead,” Stiles said. He had to believe that. Scott and Derek would be fine. They were fighters. They’d get out of this. 

Peter patted Stiles on the shoulder, “Keep thinking that if it makes you happy.” 

***

Stiles was annoyed at Scott and he was annoyed at Danny and he was annoyed that no one seemed to be taking this threat seriously. They all seemed to think this was some big joke. He’d spotted a pattern and now the pattern pointed straight to him and no one seemed to care that whoever was out there targeting virgins might pick him next. 

“You could try asking Derek,” Isaac suggested, pulling on his gym kit ready for the cross country. 

“Why won’t anybody be serious about this?” Stiles asked. 

“I am serious. He’ll say yes.” 

“Are you out of your mind? Or do you just want to watch him pummel me when I bring up the subject?” 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” said Isaac. “If you ask him, he’ll say yes.” 

“He hates me. Come on, Scott, back me up on this.” 

Scott looked between Isaac and Stiles, “Erm...” 

“Not you too,” said Stiles. Everyone seemed to think this was a joke. “Why would he say yes? Ever? I mean, he looks like a Greek god and he has freaking werewolf stamina and could probably have every girl on the planet and half the guys eating out of his hands if he wanted to. My self-esteem gets enough of a battering on a daily basis without me needing to get rejected by him. He’d probably emphasise the point by throwing me through a wall.” 

“I’m just saying,” Scott said, “maybe Isaac has a point. Maybe you should ask him.” 

“OK. I am not asking Derek Hale to have sex with me. I’m not that desperate.” 

He could harbour secrets thoughts about Derek and imagine what it would be like. He could think about those moments when Derek was standing close to him or pressing him against a wall and he could picture what might happen next. He liked those illusions too much to watch them shatter when Derek turned him away. 

***

Derek was at the school, making sure that the teacher was alright and making sure that she wasn’t going to be shouting about what she’d seen to the world. They had enough problems without reporters and conspiracy theorists swarming all over the place. But it seemed like things would be OK with her. She was scared but she didn’t seem like she was going to talk. Derek headed back to his car, considerably more relaxed than he’d been earlier. He didn’t think she was going to be a danger to them. 

As he walked, the hubbub of the school behind him, his ears automatically honed in on a very familiar voice saying his name. It was Stiles. 

“I am not asking Derek Hale to have sex with me. I’m not that desperate. OK. So maybe I am desperate and maybe someone is out there killing virgins and I don’t want to die, but there are some things that are worse than being killed three times over by a serial killer. There is no way in hell that I’m going to ask Derek to sleep with me.” 

The world stopped spinning. 

Derek stood there, in the parking lot of the school, and waited for the ground to crumble beneath his feet. He’d thought, he’d hoped, that maybe there was a spark of something there. Maybe there was some chance that Stiles would look at him the way Adam had. 

But there was nothing. Stiles would rather die than be with him. 

Derek started running. He ignored his car. He ignored all reason. He just ran. Into the woods, away from the school. He needed to be as far away from here as possible. He needed to get somewhere he wouldn’t have to hear Stiles’ voice. Somewhere he wouldn’t need to hear Stiles shattering all his hopes. 

Derek ran through the trees, crashing through branches, not caring that they splintered when he hit them. He found himself shifting, taking on an animal form that ploughed through the undergrowth as if it wasn’t there, tearing a trail of destruction through the plants. His rage and pain filled him to bursting and all he could do was run, but he couldn’t run away from the memory of those words. 

In a thick patch of trees, he finally came to a halt, in his alpha form for the first time, the form he’d never managed to take despite taking Peter’s power. Finally he had enough primal rage to tap into this dark power. He was truly animal now, the monster in the night that parents warned their children to fear. No wonder Stiles wanted never to be with him. 

Derek threw a punch at the nearest tree. His hand, his paw, smashed into the trunk with a splintering of wood and a crack broke up the length of the tree. 

He reached around his neck for the cord of the amulet. The only warmth in it now came from the touch of his skin. He yanked the thing. It came away with a snap of the cord and he hurled the little disc of wood into the trees, letting out a roar of fury as he did so. It was all a lie. All the things he’d hoped for, all the sideways glances, all the ways Stiles would swallow and lick his lips when Derek got close, the desire Derek thought he smelled on him from time to time. None of it was real. None of it mattered. 

Stiles hated him. 

He collapsed down onto the ground, shifting back into human form, sobbing like a baby. He lay there on the earth, feeling the pain of loss all over again. He was an idiot for dreaming it could be real. He was the biggest fool in the history of fools. 

He sobbed on the ground, heart still pounding, tears flowing like rain. 

“Damn you, Adam. Damn you. And damn you too, Stiles.” 

The worst thing, worse than the pain of knowing that someone he loved would never love him back, was knowing that he’d have to get up and look for the amulet. He’d tossed it aside but he couldn’t leave it here in the woods. It carried the last piece of Laura’s soul, the only possible chance he had to get her back. Derek forced himself to his feet, making his way through the trees, looking for that little disc. 

He couldn’t wear it next to his heart anymore. He couldn’t carry the reminder of all that he’d lost, but he wouldn’t leave it to rot here in the dirt either. He’d take it back to the apartment. He’d put it somewhere safe. Somewhere that he’d never have to look at it again.


	13. Motel California

Derek looked at Jennifer, crouching in front of his bed, lit up by what little illumination came through the big windows. There wasn’t much tonight; it was a new moon. The sky was empty and dark. Everything was empty and dark. The deep gashes in his torso were nothing compared to what lay within. The damage went beyond flesh. 

She was looking at him in a way no one had looked at him in a long time. Not since Adam. She was looking at him like she wanted to help him, to heal him, to take away his pain. She was looking at him like there were a million things she wanted to do to him. The last person who’d looked at him that way was gone, leaving behind a boy who hated where once he’d loved. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Derek said. 

“Why is that?” Jennifer asked. 

“Because you don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.” He was broken inside. He knew it. Only one person had ever claimed to love him and he’d managed to poison that. 

“Maybe I have a feeling about you.” 

“It shouldn’t be a good one.” He thought about Adam. He thought about Laura. He thought about Erica. His family. Even Kate. Everyone he touched ended up destroyed. “Everyone around me... everyone gets hurt.” 

“I’ve been hurt before.” 

“Not like this.” 

She straightened up slightly from her crouched position, moving closer to him. Derek didn’t move away. His eyes were on the past, on Adam. A part of him wanted this, wanted what this woman offered. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even desire, not really. It was just the opportunity to remember what it felt like to be alive, what it felt like to feel. 

He tried to push the image of Adam’s face from his thoughts. It wasn’t betrayal. Not really. Adam was gone. The kid out there, Stiles, bore no pack mark. He hadn’t promised himself to Derek. He’d stated perfectly clearly that he didn’t want to be with Derek. So why was Derek still waiting for him? Why was Derek still hoping for someone who would never love him again? Who couldn’t love him after all the things he’d done. 

Jennifer’s hands were on his knees. Her fingers traced a pattern against his leg, a soft touch, a gentle touch moving in slow lines. It had been so long since he’d known gentleness. A warmth of desire flowed through him. He wanted to be held again. He wanted to be touched. He wanted that brief joy of human contact after so long in loneliness. 

He met her eyes. He didn’t resist when she leaned in for the kiss. 

All thoughts of pain faded away. The warmth was flowing through him now, making him feel alive. Something pounded in his veins, a need, a desire. He wanted this. He wanted her. She touched something primal inside him, some part of him that ached for what he’d lost. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. He hadn’t needed anything so badly since he’d lain with Adam beneath a moonless sky. 

He kissed back. He let the warmth flow through him. He let the power of his need take over. Beneath the dark sky, empty of moonlight, he gave himself over to this desire. 

_I love you, Derek._ The voice whispered from his memories. When they’d joined together on the night of the new moon, it had been something special. It had been more than just lust or instincts. It had been the joining of two people into one. It had been powerful and brilliant and a blazing of silver light. 

This felt like a cheap imitation. 

_I love you._ The thought whispered again. The memory. Derek closed his eyes, trying to block it out. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t really hearing it. 

But he was hearing something else. 

He sat up in the bed, looking towards a brick in the wall. A loose brick, with a little hiding hole behind it, normally almost invisible in the dark corners of his apartment. Tonight, he thought he saw a faint silver light around the edges. The brick was shaking, trying to come free. 

Derek closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about what lay inside there. It didn’t matter. Stiles didn’t love him, so why should he care about some old amulet? Why should he care when there was someone real and solid here on the bed beside him? 

Jennifer’s hands ran over his bare skin. Her lips touched his neck. He felt the warmth of her against him, inside him, flowing through him. He felt the pain fade away, his wounds no longer important. There was someone with him, someone who wanted him. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. Because Adam wasn’t either. Not anymore. 

Derek wasn’t going to be swayed by a ghost of a memory and some silver light. Derek turned his head back to Jennifer and kissed her on the lips. 

***

Derek woke to the first light breaking through the windows. Jennifer lay beside him, still asleep. Derek could have cursed himself for his stupidity. He shouldn’t have done that. No matter how upset he was feeling, no matter how hurt he was about what Stiles had said, he shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right on Jennifer. Or Adam. 

Derek climbed from the bed, grabbing his clothes on the way to the bathroom. He stood underneath a cold shower and washed away the traces of last night’s pleasure, washing away the lingering warmth it had left beneath his skin. He shivered beneath a spray of water, shaking from more than just cold. His shoulders shook with the knowledge of what he’d done. Jennifer was a nice person, but he didn’t love her. He didn’t feel anything for her. Last night, she could have been anyone, just a warm body in his bed, and that didn’t feel right to him. He’d never thought of himself as someone who would just use a person like that. 

It was no wonder Stiles hated him. Right now, he hated himself too. 

He washed away the dried blood that still clung to his skin. The wounds were completely healed now. He didn’t have a mark on him. 

He climbed from the shower and towelled himself off, pulling on his clothes. He returned to the main room. Jennifer was still on the bed, stirring, reaching out a hand to the empty side where he had been. 

Derek looked away. He saw the loose brick in his wall. Even in the daylight, he could see the faint silver light. The amulet hadn’t lit up since Laura’s death. Not in the waking world anyway. Derek went to the wall and got his claws around the edge of the brick, easing it out. The amulet lay behind it, tucked safely in the hiding place where he had left it, along with the book of protection spells that Bookworm given Adam. The shield symbol on the amulet was glowing brightly, the protection side sending out its silver light. 

The pack symbol was dark. 

Derek lifted it from its hiding place, feeling the warmth of it in the palm of his hand. Why would it react like this? Why now? It hadn’t done anything when Derek had fought the Argents or Peter or Jackson. It had just been a lump of still wood. Why would it light up now? 

He glanced back towards the bed, to where Jennifer was now sitting up, clutching the covers around her. 

Maybe it was Adam’s spirit reaching out to him, angry at him for what he’d done. Derek closed his fist around the amulet. 

“Is everything OK?” Jennifer asked. 

“No,” Derek said. “You need to leave.” 

“Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.” 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t... please don’t take this personally, but last night was a mistake.” 

“That feels rather personal,” she said. 

“I screwed up here,” Derek said. “What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. I meant what I said; people around me get hurt. People die. It’s dangerous and it’s not fair to you.” 

“I made a choice when I decided to help you.” 

“You made a choice without knowing all the facts. You’re better off away from me. Please just go.” 

Jennifer looked like she might start crying, but she found her discarded clothes, dressing with the bed sheets still pulled around her. Derek looked away. It wasn’t right to watch. Looking away might be the only decent thing he could here. 

He heard her open the door. He heard her leave. 

He looked down at the amulet in his palm and watched the silver light fade. The wood was dark again, the carved lines nothing more than carved lines. 

Derek hesitated. He looked back towards the hiding place behind the brick. Then he found the point where the cord had snapped and tied the ends together. He hung the amulet around his neck again and let it rest over his heart. Where it belonged. 

***

“Are you OK?” Cora asked. 

“No,” Derek answered. “Not really.” 

Derek was sitting on the couch, staring at the amulet. It was still around his neck, but he was holding the disc between finger and thumb, looking at the markings. It had glowed last night. It had glowed when he was with Jennifer and not when she was gone. That had to mean something. A warning? Or was Adam’s magic angry at him somehow for sleeping with someone else? Or maybe Laura was objecting to his choice of sex partners from beyond the grave. 

“Is there...” Cora broke off. She looked around, sniffing the air slightly. “Did you have sex last night?” 

“Yes.” There was no point trying to hide things from a werewolf. He’d learned that living with Laura. 

“Then shouldn’t you look a little happier?” 

“No.” 

“Derek,” Cora started. Then she broke off. They weren’t very good at this. Derek had been comfortable around Laura, but Cora was a virtual stranger. He didn’t know how to talk to her. It seemed she didn’t know how to talk to him either. 

She came over to the couch and looked down at him. 

“What is that?” she asked. 

“It’s an amulet,” he said. “It’s supposed to have protective magic. It was given as a gift to Laura.” 

“So why are you looking at it like it’s some big mystery?” 

“I have it on pretty good authority that it’s still protecting Laura’s soul.” Derek didn’t tell her everything, but he told her about Peter’s revival, about how his spirit had been trapped inside the amulet until Lydia’s ritual managed to free him. 

“So are you saying that Laura could come back too?” Cora asked. 

“Maybe. I’ve been told there’s a way.” He tucked the amulet back beneath his shirt and looked Cora in the eye. “If anything happens to me, if I die, I want you to take the amulet. Protect it. Keep it safe. And, if you can’t guard it yourself, give it to Stiles.” 

“Why Stiles?” 

Derek hesitated about telling her the truth. Eventually he said, “Because Stiles needs all the protection he can get.”


	14. Visionary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realised I've messed up my own timeline with this one. In the first story, Stiles said he found out about Kate and the book at the same time. In this story, I have them as separate events. I'm just going with the idea that Stiles mis-remembered and got the two conversations muddled up. After all, we have a canon example of his memory not being perfect - he said the fire was ten years ago when it was six.

Boyd was dead. Another one of his pack taken from his life and there had been nothing he could do about it. He’d been helpless as his own claws had been used as weapons. Some alpha he was. He couldn’t protect his own. He couldn’t anyone. 

Derek stood in an old distillery, staring up at a spiral cut into metal. He was too tired though for revenge. He had been angry for so long and anger was exhausting. He couldn’t summon the energy to be properly angry for Boyd. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted this to be done. 

He walked up to that wall. He ran a hand over the gashes in the metal, the claw marks left so long ago. The war would never be over. There would always be hunters and other packs and killers stranger and more deadly. There would always be some enemy coming to tear apart what he was building. Just when he thought he had something, it was snatched away from him. 

He turned his back on the spiral and sank down onto the ground. He sat there, his back against the wall, sitting beneath the sign of revenge. He was always under the sign of revenge. He’d gotten revenge for the fire, but it hadn’t brought his family back. He’d gotten revenge for Laura, but it hadn’t brought her back either. Over and over the spiral of revenge went round and round and he just ended up emptier. He had nothing left. 

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and brought out a small paperback, well-worn from many readings. He turned the book over in his hands, looking at it. It was old now. The front cover was pulling away from the spine at the top. So many times, Laura had read this book, alone or to him. So she was gone too. Derek pulled his legs up in front of him and opened the book, resting it against his knees. He started at the first page this time, and started reading. 

The opening chapters weren't as familiar as the ones in the middle, where Laura would usually start when upset, but they were familiar enough. Old words flowing through his eyes and mind. He could hear them in Laura’s voice, hear the tone she’d impart in them. He felt the amulet below his shirt and wondered if she was here somehow, reading along with him. 

Derek heard something, a sound outside the distillery. The sounds of rustling and breaking branches of someone trying to pick their way through the woods. For a moment, Derek prepared to fight, expecting one of the alphas, or maybe the mysterious druid who was going around killing people. Then he picked up another sound: a very familiar voice was muttering curses at the bushes he trampled through. 

Derek leaned back against the wall and waited. He turned the page and read on a little further. A few minutes later, Stiles stumbled into the distillery, clutching a paper bag which smelled of burgers. Stiles looked around for a second and then his gaze fell on Derek. Derek looked back to the book which rested on his knees. 

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” he asked. 

“I came looking for you.” 

“How did you know where to find me?” 

Stiles hesitated, his fingers crumbling the top of the paper bag where his fist closed around it. Derek kept his eyes on the book, but he wasn’t reading anymore. He hadn’t imagined Stiles, of all people, would find him here. 

“Your uncle told us about what happened with the Argents and Deucalion and everyone years ago. I figured this place was worth checking out if you weren’t in your usual haunts.” 

Derek wondered if Stiles had been looking all over for him. He could picture Stiles checking the apartment and the old Hale house and everywhere. He just couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d have thought, after everything that had happened, that people would want to stay as far away from him as possible. 

“Why are you here?” Derek asked. 

“I brought you food.” 

Derek looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles looked away, kicking at the floor nervously. 

“OK, so the food was an excuse, but you looked really bad the other day and I wanted to make sure you weren’t doing something stupid.” 

“When Stiles Stilinski is worried about people doing stupid things, the world is in serious trouble.” 

“I resent that,” Stiles said. He came over to Derek and tossed the bag down at his feet. “You might as well eat.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“When was the last time you ate something?” 

Derek couldn’t answer that question. He wasn’t actually sure when he’d last eaten and the smell of burgers was invading his nostrils, reminding him that food could be quite a useful commodity. He eyed the paper bag. 

“I guess you could just sit here and waste away,” Stiles said. “I mean, as suicide plans go, it’s guaranteed to work, but it’s not very efficient. You might do better just walking up to Deucalion and picking a fight. At least it will be over quickly that way.” 

Derek was tired, but he wasn’t actually thinking of suicide. He was thinking that death might not necessarily be a bad thing. He might get to be with his sister again. But it wasn’t in him to just lay down and die, not when there were people depending on him. If he died, it would be an end to the endless struggle, but it would leave Scott and Isaac and Cora still in danger. Even Stiles. He couldn’t just abandon them. 

He closed the book and let it rest in the crook where he legs met his stomach. He reached for the paper bag and opened it up, seeing a pair of hamburgers and some curly fries. He didn’t look up at Stiles because it was easier to ignore the look of triumph on Stiles’ face if he didn’t look at it. 

Stiles came and sat down next to him, leaning against the wall and pulling his legs up in front of him in a mirror of Derke’s pose. He was sitting close enough that his left shoulder brushed against Derek’s right. 

“Huh,” Stiles said. 

“What?” Derek asked. He took a bite of the burger. As soon as he had it in his mouth, his stomach remembered how to be hungry and started demanding the rest. Derek resisted the urge to shove the whole thing into his mouth and swallow it whole; there was no point making himself sick after Stiles had gone to the trouble of finding him and bringing him this stuff. 

“I was expecting you to be reading ‘Advanced tactics for ripping out the beating hearts of your enemies’ or something along those lines,” Stiles said. “I definitely wasn’t expecting a kids’ book.” 

Derek remember, back when he’d first met Adam, that Adam had used knowledge of this book to prove that he was a friend. He’d said that there’d been a really, really bad day. Derek supposed Boyd’s death qualified. Derek chewed the mouthful of burger slowly to give himself another moment to think, to work out how to explain. He knew he had to explain; fate was pretty much screaming at him that this was the moment to reveal this information to Stiles. But this was deeply personal. He wouldn’t dream of telling this to anyone else. 

Derek held up the half-eaten burger, making sure Stiles saw it. 

“If you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you,” he said. “You will suffer the same fate as this burger.” 

Derek brought the burger to his mouth, sank his teeth in and then tore out a chunk of bread and meat. He chewed pointedly and met Stiles’ eyes. Stiles glanced down at Derek’s mouth and then nodded. Derek swallowed the mouthful. 

“It was Laura’s favourite book when she was little,” Derek said. “When she was a kid, she would get Mom to read it to her. Even when she was too old for bedtime stories, if she was ill or upset, she would ask Mom to read it, particularly the bit in the middle of the book where the main character’s dad dies. After the fire, Laura would read this book as a way of remembering Mom. Sometimes, she’d read bits aloud. I never actually told Laura, but I loved it when she did, because it would make me think of Mom too. Now, it makes me think of Laura. So there are times when I read it to remember them.” 

Derek fell silent. He let Stiles absorb the words. Derek had just bared a part of his soul; he just had to hope that Stiles would respect it as much as Adam had. 

“That’s really beautiful,” Stiles said, “in a depressing sort of way.” 

Derek thought that was a bit rich coming from a guy whose mom had taught him about massacres as part of the Thanksgiving story, but he wasn’t going to argue. 

Derek finished that burger. There was another one in the bag. He offered it to Stiles. 

“No, I’m good. You need it more than I do. You’re the one who’ll have to go kick some alpha ass.” 

Derek started eating the second burger. Stiles was still beside him, a comforting presence. He could imagine that he was sitting next to Adam, that he had his pack back. He could close his eyes and breathe in Stiles’ scent and pretend, just for a little while. 

He knew it wouldn’t last. Even if they defeated the alpha pack and figured out who was out their sacrificing people, he would still lose Stiles. He would pick up the wand and get sent back and then just… disappear. Derek couldn’t let it happen again. He couldn’t lose Stiles a second time. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Derek said. 

“Most people, when they're brought dinner, would say thank you.” 

“It’s dangerous being around me. People get killed.” 

“What happened with Boyd wasn’t your fault.” 

Derek looked down at his hands. A bit of ketchup had dribbled out of the burger, staining his fingers with red. Boyd had died, impaled on his own claws. The blood would be harder to get rid of than the ketchup. So much blood stained his hands now. 

“It’s not just Boyd,” he said. 

“Peter told us about Paige.” 

Derek turned sharply towards Stiles, who leaned a way a little in response. Derek felt the sudden cold against his arm where Stiles’ shoulder had been a moment before. Of course Stiles pulled away from him. He was a murderer and now Stiles knew it. 

“That wasn’t his secret to tell,” Derek snarled. 

Stiles held up his hands in a sort of surrender gesture. 

“It was just me and Cora there,” he said, “and I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. And not just because you’ll probably kill me if I do.” 

Derek nodded. He kept eating, putting the last piece of burger in his mouth and licking his fingers clean. He heard Stiles swallow and looked back at him. Stiles was staring at Derek’s fingers as Derek licked off ketchup and meat juices. For about half a second, Derek forgot everything about where and when he was and he nearly offered Stiles a taste. Then the rest of his brain caught up with that thought and reminded him that this wasn’t Adam and he couldn’t just make suggestive comments. 

Derek looked away again. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring into empty space, seeing only the past, the faces of everyone he’d ever loved. Including Adam. 

“It’s not just about Paige,” Derek said. “Everyone gets killed. Laura. Erica. Boyd. Others. Everyone I’ve ever cared about ends up dead.” 

“I guess I’m fine then,” Stiles said, “since we know you don’t care about me.” 

“Stiles.” 

“Yeah?” There was something in Stiles’ tone, a little trace of hope even in the sadness. Derek turned to face him again, meeting his eyes and giving a faint smile.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said. 

Stiles returned the smile, “Duly noted.” 

Derek shifted closer to Stiles. It took the tiniest of tiny movements to close the gap between them so that Derek’s shoulder was once again touching Stiles’. Derek leaned into that touch. 

“Eat your fries,” Stiles said. Derek picked up the bag again, while Stiles reached out and took the book from Derek’s lap. He opened it and started reading. 

“’Once on a dark winter’s day,’” Stiles read, “’when the yellow fog hung so thick and in the streets of London…’” 

The sob built up inside Derek with the steady inevitability of a tidal wave. The take-out bag slipped from between his fingers. He bent forwards over his knees, shoulders shaking as the tears began to flow. 

Suddenly Stiles’ arm was around his shoulders. His hand rested against the top of Derek’s arm. 

“Are you OK? Do you want me to stop?” Stiles asked. 

Derek shook his head, to both of those questions. He couldn’t answer out loud. He didn’t think he’d be able to speak right now. The sobs shook his shoulders uncontrollably as though his body was trying to physically force the grief out of him. 

He reached up and put his hand over Stiles’, squeezing the fingers slightly. Stiles responded by squeezing a little on Derek’s arm. He didn’t try to take his arm away. He just sat there, arm around Derek’s shoulders, and started reading again. 

***

Stiles’ voice was giving out after about five chapters and this was by far the most surreal way he’d spent an afternoon. He’d come looking for Derek expecting to find him in a murderous rampage, plotting revenge against the alpha pack. He had not expected to find him crying in a deserted distillery reading children’s books. 

He eventually had to stop when the light was dimming and it was difficult to see the words on the page. Derek had stopped crying by that point. It had taken almost three chapters for him to stop sobbing and then he’d just sat there, staring into space. Stiles wasn’t entirely sure he was listening, but when Stiles stopped reading, Derek shifted. He turned to look at Stiles. 

“If you want me to keep reading,” Stiles said, “we’re going to need to get a flashlight. And a bottle of water.” 

Derek looked around, appearing to notice for the first time that it was getting dark. 

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Derek said. “It’s not safe.” 

“Well, it seems that the evil druid has finished with the virgin sacrifices, so I think I’m out of the danger zone on that front and the alpha pack so far have only seemed interested in targeting werewolves. I think I’m the least in-danger person here.” 

“They threatened Jennifer to get to me,” Derek pointed out. 

“Yeah, what’s with that?” Stiles asked. “Are you sleeping with my English teacher or something?” 

Derek didn’t answer at once. Stiles suddenly felt very uncomfortable about the fact that he was sitting in an abandoned building with a guy who not only was old enough to sleep with his teacher, but who actually _was_ sleeping with her. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said quietly. 

“No problem,” Stiles said. “It’s no business of mine who you choose to be with. No business at all. If she makes you happy, then great. Go for it. Have fun.” 

He needed to stop talking before he humiliated himself completely. He tossed the book back to Derek and got to his feet, a little stiffly after sitting on the cold floor for hours. He shouldn’t be bothered by this. It wasn’t like Derek had said he was interested in Stiles. He’d just said he cared about him. Actually, he hadn’t even said that. He’d said that Stiles was an idiot. Stiles could easily be demonstrating his idiocy by misinterpreting that comment in the most optimistic way possible. 

“I should go,” Stiles said. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, standing and grabbing Stiles by the wrist to stop him leaving. It was a surprisingly gentle grip. Stiles thought he could pull free in a heartbeat if he wanted to. He didn’t want to. 

Then Derek let go. 

“I should walk you back to your jeep,” Derek said. 

“I don’t need a babysitter, Derek.” 

Stiles walked out into the growing darkness and tried not to think about what it had been like to have Derek in his arms.


	15. The Girl Who Knew Too Much - Lunar Eclipse

Derek wasn’t sure what he was looking for at the school. He wasn’t sure who he was looking for. He wanted to talk to Stiles. He wanted to explain about Jennifer but he wasn’t sure how to explain because he wasn’t sure how he felt about her. She’d been nice to him and she was attractive and he owed her for helping him, but that wouldn’t normally be enough to lead him into bed with someone. That night had been a lapse in judgement and he felt like he’d been caught cheating by Stiles, which was impossible because he wasn’t in a relationship with Stiles. 

Why shouldn’t he seek a few moments of comfort in the arms of someone who wanted to be with him? Someone who cared for him? Someone who wouldn’t rather be dead than sleep with him? 

Derek wanted to talk to Stiles but maybe it was better this way. He could let Stiles be a normal teenager and he could have a relationship with someone ordinary, someone untouched by the pains of his past. Jennifer didn’t know all his dark secrets. Maybe if he was with her, he could pretend they didn’t exist, at least for a little while. 

At the very least, he could be with someone who wasn’t an underage kid whose father carried a gun. 

He walked into the underpass outside the school and he saw her, the very person he’d been thinking of. Jennifer was standing in front of him, smiling at him like he was the sunshine. She ran to him. 

For an instant, the amulet burned against Derek’s skin, blazing hot above his heart, and then her arms were around him. All his doubts fled. He remembered what it had been like to be in her arms on the night of the new moon. He remembered the desire and he felt it stirring inside him again. He felt the need to touch her, to care for her, to protect her, burning deep down inside, more insistent than the touch of any piece of wood. 

Her lips met his and he kissed back fiercely. 

He ignored the pain of the burning amulet. Adam was dead and gone. Jennifer was right here. 

***

Derek had promised not to leave Cora but he couldn’t help her. This wasn’t a medical illness. This wasn’t something that werewolf healing could handle. That left him with only one other option: magic. He still had the book of protection spells that had been Adam’s. Maybe there was something in there that could help Cora. Maybe Stiles could use his magic to save her. It was worth a chance. 

Anything was worth the chance. So he went back to the apartment, leaving Peter to watch over Cora. Not that he trusted Peter, but he probably wouldn’t let harm come to her unless he could profit by it. 

Derek headed up to his apartment, arriving to find Scott and Stiles there, Stiles pounding on his door. Perfect. He wouldn’t have to go looking for Stiles when he got the magic book. 

“Derek, she took my dad,” Stiles said. “The Darach. It’s Miss Blake. It’s our English teacher. She’s the one killing people.” 

“Impossible,” Derek said. The word left his mouth without bothering to check in with his brain. Of course it couldn’t be her. She was too beautiful, too kind, too caring, too wonderful to be some dark druid. He knew without a moment’s doubt that Stiles was mistaken. 

“Derek, we saw her,” Scott said. “She tried to kill Lydia. She’s taken Stiles’ dad to be one of her sacrifices. You’ve got to listen to us.” 

“You’re wrong,” Derek said. 

“Damn you, Derek! Just because you’re screwing her doesn’t mean she’s not screwing you!” Stiles yelled. “She’s taken my dad. Why won’t you listen to me for once?” 

“You’ve made a mistake,” Derek said, perfectly calm. It had to be a mistake. Whatever Stiles might or might not have seen, Jennifer couldn’t be behind all the deaths. 

“Damn it, Derek!” 

Stiles took a step towards Derek and grabbed him by the arm. 

Derek felt a sharp stab of pain from his chest, a burning heat from the amulet that rested above his heart. He hissed in surprise. But it wasn’t a surprise, was it? How long had the amulet been burning him? 

He took at Stiles and was looking into Adam’s eyes again. He felt the power of the amulet. It had been there all along but something else had stopped him feeling it, something else under his skin. He looked at Stiles now and remembered how it had been under the new moon with Adam, sharing a moment of magical rebirth. He’d felt the power inside him, becoming a part of him, joining him with Adam into one being. 

He’d felt that again on the night of the new moon with Jennifer. He’d been joined with her but he hadn’t recognised the magic for what it had been. No doubt that had been part of the magic. 

He hadn’t been wearing the amulet that night, but it had tried to warn him anyway. It had been warning him ever since but the spell she’d cast on him that night hadn’t let him feel it. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked. 

Derek blinked. He looked at Stiles in a dazed way, aware of where he was again. 

“I’m going to kill her,” Derek said. 

“No,” Stiles said. “She knows where my dad is. We need her to tell us so we can save him.” 

Derek remembered Adam looking at Facebook photos of his dad, talking about him, remembering him, missing him. He hadn’t died that time round, so there was a way to save him. There had to be. 

“Wait here,” Derek said. He hurried into the apartment. He needed water. Running water. That was how to clear the residual effects of the spell. He headed for the bathroom, splashing water onto his face. How was he supposed to know if he was free of the spell? He’d hadn’t been able to feel it when he’d been under its influence. 

He looked at his reflection and couldn’t see any difference. He couldn’t see magic sparkles in his eyes or anything to give an indication that something was wrong. He couldn’t tell. 

But the amulet had known. He pulled it out from under his shirt now, studying the two sides of it. Both symbols were dark. The only warmth in it was from lying next to his skin. There was nothing, no danger that it felt a need to warn him about. The spell was over now. It must be. 

He tucked the amulet away again and grabbed a towel, wiping the water from his face. 

“Derek!” Jennifer’s voice called from out in the main room of the apartment. “Derek, where are you?” 

Derek walked calmly to face her, feeling a subtle warmth above his heart, a sensation that rose and fell gently in time to his own pulse. He focused on that sensation, on that power. He had to trust in that feeling, no matter what she might do to him, no matter what magic she might call up. 

“Right here,” he said. 

“Oh, thank god.” 

She flung her arms around him and Derek felt it again, a tingling beneath his skin, her power at work. She kept her hands on him as she talked, holding his hand in hers. Now that was aware of it, he could feel the sensation flowing along his veins, a quiet warmth filling him, soothing him. He could feel it like a siren song inside his head, whispering that he could trust her, he could believe in her. When she asked him to trust her, every fibre of his being wanted to agree. But he felt the other power too, the touch above his heart, beating in time to it. Two powers telling him two different things. 

When she kissed him, the amulet burned a searing fire, energy flowing through his body, an inferno that obliterated the other power. She must have felt it. She must have realised her magic was no longer having the right effect. She opened her eyes and looked at him with cold suspicion. 

“They’re already here, aren’t they?” 

***

 _Don’t let us awaken the nematon._ That’s what Adam had told him. That was the warning, one of the things he had felt most important when he’d known he was running out of time. That was a warning that apparently trumped the fact that Peter was the one who’d murdered Laura. 

Peter and Lydia were talking about the nematon. This had to be the moment Adam had warned him about. This was what Adam had wanted to change. He’d talked about wanting to change some point in the future, some event that had disastrous consequences. This was the moment. Adam had faded out of existence telling Derek to change the future, to change this moment. Maybe this was why. Maybe Adam had vanished because of this warning, because it was what Derek needed to change things. 

“Talia,” Peter said, “Derek’s mother, my older sister, decided that she didn’t ever want us going back. She knew how dangerous it was and took the memory of its location from us.” 

“But then how are we supposed to find it?” Lydia asked. 

Derek knew what he had to do. He had to change things. He had to put a stop to whatever terrible event Adam had woken up from nightmares screaming about. It all came back to the nematon. Maybe doing this would change things forever and cost him Adam, but Adam had wanted this more than life itself. He’d wanted to alter his timeline. So Derek would help him do it. 

“We’re not,” Derek said. 

“What?” Lydia asked. Even Peter looked surprised. 

“We’re not going to help find it,” Derek repeated. 

“But we have to find it,” Lydia said. “What about Stiles’ dad? And Scott’s mom? And Allison’s dad? What about stopping the Darach?” 

Derek shook his head. He looked away. 

“I’m not going to help find the nematon,” Derek said. 

“But, Derek,” Peter began. 

“No!” Derek’s eyes blazed red as he looked at him. “No. I’m still your alpha and we will not help find the nematon.” 

“Don’t you care that people could die?” Lydia demanded. “Don’t you care about anything?” 

“I care,” Derek said. He could feel the tears behind his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall. “I care.” 

“Fine!” she snapped. “We’ll find another way.” 

She stormed out. Derek screwed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the flood of pain. The sheriff could die. His decision might cost Stiles’ his father. Stiles might never talk to him again, might never look at him, might hate him for the rest of time. But still Derek had to do this. Because Adam had asked him to. Because Adam’s last words had been to warn him away from the nematon. 

Derek sniffed slightly, still trying to hold back the tears. 

“Just out of curiosity,” Peter asked, “why don’t you want to help Stiles save his father?” 

“Because Adam warned me not to.” 

“I really hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Derek looked down at Cora’s still body, another person he didn’t know how to protect. He couldn’t save Stiles or his father. He couldn’t save Cora. He couldn’t seem to do anything right. 

“I hope so too,” Derek said. 

***

“Hey,” Kira said, coming into the shop. Bookworm set aside the text on nineteenth century French philosophy that she’d been reading. She nodded a greeting to Kira. 

“Have you got anything new for me?” Kira asked. She was always after books on legends and mythology. Bookworm suspected that Noshiko encouraged this interested as a way of preparing her daughter for the knowledge of her true nature, which couldn’t be far from revealing itself. 

“Nothing new,” Bookworm answered, “but I’ve got some ancient gods.” She went over to a small section of shelves dedicated to myths and history. There were two books that she’d acquired since Kira had last been in the shop. She retrieved them now and held them out. 

“Norse mythology,” Bookworm said, “about gods getting drunk, feasting and fighting. Or Greek gods transforming into animals in order to seduce beautiful women.” 

Kira took the books saying with a grin, “So what you’re telling me is that all of these myths were written by men?” 

Bookworm returned the girl’s smile. She didn’t actually know who had created the original stories. With tales this old, even she was unsure how much was based on truth and how much was just the invention of story-tellers. She suspected that Kira’s guess would have more than a note of truth to it. She left the girl to decide whether she wanted either of these books. 

Bookworm was halfway back to the counter when she felt it, a surge of power flowing through the earth, carried on currents of magic. Energy rippled out. Out here, the wave of force was relatively minor, but it moved with momentum. The event that caused this must have been phenomenal, a great power awakening. And at the heart of it, she felt a familiar presence, an echo of Adam. 

On her shelf behind the counter, Adam’s books trembled in recognition.

“Are you OK?” 

Bookworm realised she was on the floor. She didn’t remember falling, but now she opened her eyes and looked up at Kira, who crouched over her. Kira recoiled, staring in shock and falling on her ass as she moved away. 

Bookworm blinked, letting her eyes return to their disguised state. She must have let her illusion slip slightly in the aftermath of the wave of energy. She looked at Kira now, letting the girl see ordinary, human eyes. Maybe the girl would decide that she’d just imagined what she’d seen. Or perhaps she would ask her mother and finally have her own eyes opened to the truth of the world. 

“I’m fine,” Bookworm said, getting to her feet. “I just fell.” 

“Was that an earthquake?” 

Bookworm was caught slightly off guard, “You felt that?” 

“I felt… something.” Kira looked immensely puzzled, as well she might. A girl who knew nothing of magic wouldn’t understand what she had just felt. Somewhere, a great source of power had reawakened and sent shockwaves out for those sensitive enough to detect it. 

Bookworm offered a hand to help Kira to her feet. As she did so, she felt a tingle of power from the girl’s touch. It seemed that great power source wasn’t the only thing to have awakened. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Kira asked. “You look a little dazed. Do you want me to call a doctor?” 

“That won’t be necessary, but please tell your mother that I need to talk to her.” 

***

Noshiko came to the bookshop almost at once. Bookworm was still writing the letter. She finished the last few words as Noshiko entered, and then folded the sheet of paper, tucking it into the envelope. She wrote a name on the front. 

“I assume this is to do with the nematon?” Noshiko asked. 

“It is,” Bookworm answered. She sealed the envelope. “I take it you will be answering its call?” 

“I will. My husband is at home arranging for us to move. It will be difficult for Kira to move in the middle of the school year, but it can’t be helped. I have to be there in case the thing I buried there has woken too.” 

“I understand your obligations,” Bookworm said, “but you have other obligations to me. It’s time for me to call in the debt.” 

Noshiko swallowed, nervous. Bookworm wondered if she would try to argue, try to plead. Her daughter was still young and had much to learn. It would be difficult for her to learn without her mother. Bookworm half expected Noshiko to try to use that to make her feel guilt. Instead, Noshiko spoke with absolute clarity, in a tone that would accept no argument, even from a dragon. 

“When I have satisfied my other obligations,” she said. “I have to make sure the nogitsune isn’t a threat first.” 

Bookworm nodded as those conceding with reluctance. She would let Noshiko believe that Bookworm was allowing this out of generosity or compassion. She couldn’t know that Bookworm would have to wait anyway for the nogitsune to be dealt with. That creature had left scars on Adam’s soul; nothing could happen until those scars had been created. 

“When you have done what you need to do,” Bookworm said, “I want you to stay in Beacon Hills and wait. When the time is right, I will contact you.” 

Bookworm reached behind her onto her shelves and removed the book that she had placed there temporarily. It was the book she’d taken from Colloway. She tucked the envelope inside the front cover and then held book and letter out to Noshiko. 

“When I contact you, I will tell you who to give these to. Give them to him.” 

“You’re giving him one of your books? One of your hoard?” Her tone was filled with disbelief, as well it might be, but this book had never really been part of her collection. This book had always been destined for another. 

“Let him read the letter and then do whatever he asks of you.” 

Noshiko gave a puzzled frown, “Whatever he asks? Will he ask for my life?” 

“He might. He might ask for someone else’s life. That will be his choice. Until he makes his choice, you will protect him with your life and you will follow through on what he decides. A life for a life, that was the bargain.” 

Noshiko nodded, “You have given me seventeen years with my daughter, seventeen years that I did not expect. How much longer will I have?” 

“I’m not certain. Days or weeks, most likely. Perhaps months if you’re lucky. You’d best start teaching your daughter about her powers.” 

***

Derek had seriously screwed up, he knew it. _Don’t let us awaken the nematon._ That was what Adam had told him, his final warning, the big important event that he’d wanted to change. The ritual they’d performed with Deaton had done exactly what Adam had wanted not to be done. If Derek had been there, he might have been able to do something. Instead, he’d ignored it, and Stiles had done what Adam had wanted undone. 

There had been one instruction that had followed that one. If Derek failed to stop Stiles, he was supposed to kill him. That was what Adam had asked, practically begging him. He had begged, on another occasion, when they’d talked about their respective pasts. Adam had cried and told Derek to kill him next time. He’d thought his death was preferable to whatever would happen next. 

Derek didn’t know what to do. A part of him wondered if he should just do what Adam had asked of him. Adam had known what was coming. But he’d been feeling grief and guilt. Could Derek really trust a decision made in that state of mind when he didn’t have all the facts? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he should kill Stiles. He wasn’t sure if he could. Stiles was so much like Adam now that it was painful to be around him. 

He was close enough to being Adam that everything Derek had done with Jennifer now felt like a betrayal. 

So Derek found himself once again climbing into Stiles’ room. Stiles was only half-dressed, his torso bare and a t-shirt in his hands. He saw Derek and gave a shriek that was part surprise and part anger. 

“Don’t do that!” Stiles said. He yanked his shirt on. “One of these days, I’m going to teach you about doors and knocking. What are you doing here, Derek?” 

He sounded angry, angrier than Derek could remember him being. 

“I came to talk to you, to explain. Jennifer had me under a spell. It was impairing my judgement, making me drawn to her, making me do things I wouldn’t normally do.” 

“Do you think I care about what you did with her?” 

“You sounded like you cared, back at the hospital.”

Stiles had yelled at him about dating a psychopath, throwing his relationship with Kate back in his face. Stiles had been upset about his dad then, but there had been something personal in that anger, as though his being with Jennifer had been a personal affront to Stiles. Maybe a part of him had wanted it to be that way, wanted Stiles to be jealous even, because it would mean that Stiles might want to be with him himself. 

Stiles was still yelling: “I cared because my dad was missing. I care now because you didn’t help find him!” 

Derek wondered how to explain that decision. A part of him was tempted to reveal everything, to tell Stiles about Adam. Maybe Stiles would believe him now; maybe he’d seen enough of this world. But revealing Adam would mean revealing what they’d been and Derek wasn’t ready to face that yet. He wasn’t ready to face what might happen if Stiles didn’t want him the way Adam had. 

“I was told that the nematon was dangerous,” Derek said, “by someone I loved. Someone I trusted absolutely told me with their dying breath not to let anyone give power to the nematon because something terrible would happen and people would die. I thought that by not helping you find the nematon, I was fulfilling the dying wish of someone I cared about more than I can say.” 

“So you’d rather do something for someone who’s _dead_ than help save someone who’s still alive?” 

“It’s not like that,” Derek began. 

“No! Just get out! I don’t want to hear any more. You would have let my dad die, Derek! I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to talk to you again. Just go.”

Derek wanted to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness. He wanted to say that it had been Stiles’ future self he’d been obeying. He wanted to do something to make this right. 

But there was nothing. 

He couldn’t kill Stiles. He knew that now. Looking in Stiles’ face, Derek knew that he would never be able to kill him. And everything he’d done here had just made things worse. Maybe he should get out and not just out of Stiles’ house. He should just leave Beacon Hills for good. 

Stiles would be better off without him.


	16. Galvanize - Silverfinger

Derek hadn’t intended to come back to Beacon Hills, but he needed somewhere safe. The fact that he’d fought multiple enemies at the loft didn’t stop it feeling like home. It smelled of pack and belonging. He would need all the help he could get to make the connection, assuming this would even work at all. 

So he was back in the loft, with Peter. With Peter telling him how painful this was going to be with a smug tone in his voice. 

“We all have our petty revenges,” Peter said. 

Peter thrust the claws into Derek’s neck. He was right. The pain was agonising, shooting down his back and up into his skull as though someone had electrified his spine. It seared into him, torment reaching into the very core of his being. 

Then it faded. It was still there, but somehow disconnected from him. Like he was somewhere else, away from the source of the pain. 

He opened his eyes. 

He saw the stump of the nematon, but it was out of place. He was still standing in his loft, but the remains of the tree was somehow in the middle of it. And there, in front of him, was a wolf, large and strong, smelling of home. Smelling of family. She leapt up onto the stump and looked at him. She saw into him and knew him. 

It took effort for Derek not to burst into tears. 

She shifted, the wolf form flowing away until a human woman sat there. His imagination even managed to furnish her with a robe one she’d shifted. She smiled at him. 

“My boy,” she said. “My beautiful boy.” 

It was the way she used to greet him when he was upset and needed comforting. He needed that comfort. Derek wanted to throw his arms around her, but this wasn’t real. This was just an illusion made of up fragments of memory. He had to focus on what he’d come here for; he didn’t know how long this would last. 

“The nematon has awakened,” he said. “I need to know what this means. I need to know what will happen.” 

“There is power in the nematon,” she answered. “Those that want power will come here, trying to claim it, trying to use it. Werewolves, fairies, spirits: creatures I’ve faced and some I’ve only ever heard of in stories and nightmares. They will be drawn to this place. It will be dangerous.” 

“People will die,” Derek said. He’d known there would be death. Adam had warned him as much. 

“People will die,” his mother echoed, “if no one protects them. Our family have always lived here, near the nematon. Our territory has had this power at its heart. At times, it has given our pack strength, but at others, it has been our duty.” 

“Our duty?” 

“I never had a chance to tell you or your sisters. Our pack has always guarded this area, protected the people of Beacon Hills. Someone has to stand between the innocent and those that would hurt them. That duty rests with you now.” 

“I’m not an alpha.” 

“You’re a Hale. That is more important. We know the risks we face but we face them because it is right. Because being a hero or a villain is about more than what kind of creature you are. It’s about the choices you make and the way you choose to use whatever power, great or small, is given to you.” 

“I’m not a hero.” 

She smiled again and stood. She reached out a hand and laid it against his cheek. It felt warm and solid. It felt real. Derek closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her. He felt about five years old, being told a story at night by his mother. 

“You are a good person, Derek, and you are my son. You can be a hero if you choose that path. Or you can help others to be heroes.” Derek thought of Adam, learning to use defensive magic in order to protect innocent people. 

His mom turned away then, letting her hand fall from his cheek. Derek watched her walk slowly around the great tree trunk. 

“Or you could be like my brother,” she said, “willing to sacrifice his own child for the sake of ambition.” 

“What child?” Derek asked. “Peter never had a child.” 

“There is a child. Or at least there was. I saw her to a safe family after my brother’s actions nearly killed her. Then I took the memories from him to keep her safe. She does not know who she really is and he doesn’t know that she even exists.” 

“Peter nearly killed his own daughter?” Derek shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Peter had taken out a life insurance policy on Laura, lured her to Beacon Hills and then murdered her while she was trying to help him in order to steal her alpha powers. He’d murdered his nurse just because he didn’t need her help anymore. Murdering a child didn’t seem such a great leap from the things Derek had already seen him do. Still, the thought was enough to make him feel physically sick. 

“There are great powers of magic. The powers of life and death are the greatest and the most unyielding. There can be great power from a death and my brother has always craved power.” 

The next instant, Derek was back in his loft, his real loft. No tree trunk, no woman, just a sharp pain in the back of his neck as the claws withdrew. 

“Did you see her?” Peter demanded. “What did you ask her? Did she say anything about me?” 

All Derek could think was that he should rip his uncle’s throat out. Again. 

***

Scott needed to go to the hospital with his father, so Derek offered to drive Kira home. She sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of his car, giving him repeated glances and probably only here because Scott had promised her that Derek wouldn’t hurt her. 

This wasn't what Derek had wanted. He hadn't intended to be back in Beacon Hills, but his mom’s memory had told him that it was the duty of his family to protect the people here. On top of that, protecting people had been what Adam had always wanted to do. So what else could he do? He would stay and help Scott figure this out. He would fight to stop other people getting hurt. Because it was his duty. Because it was the right thing to do. Because it was what Adam would have wanted. 

And because this was his fault. He’d let them awaken the nematon. He hadn’t warned them about the danger, about the fact that someone from the future had specifically said it shouldn’t happen. He needed to make that right somehow. 

Right now, the way he could help Scott was by taking his latest crush home. 

“You look familiar,” Kira said after about ten minutes of frequent looks in his direction. “Have we met?” 

“Bookworm’s shop in New York,” Derek answered. 

She looked at him, then remembrance crossed her face and she smiled. 

“I _knew_ Stiles looked familiar. Hang on. He’s the one who told me about bardo? How come he didn’t know about it when I talked to them? Or did he just not want to embarrass me by pointing out that I was telling him stuff he’d told me?” 

Derek’s hands tightened against the steering wheel. He’d been holding this as a secret for so long but there was no way he could hide it now. All Kira would have to do was ask Stiles about that meeting and everything would fall apart. 

“He doesn’t remember meeting you,” Derek said, “because it hasn’t happened to him yet.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Time travel. The person you met in New York was Stiles from the future.” 

Derek had to keep watching the road, but he was pretty sure she was gaping at him, probably trying to work out if he was making a joke at her expense. This must be difficult for her, finding out that she wasn’t the species she’d always thought she was, being targeted by mysterious demon warriors and learning about werewolves all in the course of a few days. And then he had to throw time travel into the mix. 

“From the future?” she repeated. 

“Yes. Probably from sometime within the next year. Stiles has no idea.” 

“He doesn’t know that you’ve met a future version of him?” 

“No.” 

“You don’t think that maybe he should know?” 

“When I first met Stiles, this Stiles, he didn’t trust me and I wasn’t sure how to bring the subject up because I didn’t think he’d believe me. The more time past, the harder it became to say anything and now… now he hates me so he probably wouldn’t listen long enough for me to tell him.” 

She stared at him for a minute, before muttering, “And I thought my life was complicated.” 

Derek couldn’t argue with that. He kept driving, staring out of the front window of his car, his own thoughts filled with how complicated things might get. People would die, he knew that. Having seen one of those demon ninjas sticking a sword through an FBI agent, he was quite willing to believe that they’d kill others without hesitation. Unfortunately, Adam hadn’t given him anything he could use to stop them. 

“What happened to the future Stiles?” Kira asked after a while. 

“He’s gone.” 

“And by gone you mean… dead?” 

“Maybe. Have you ever watched Back To the Future?” 

“Of course.” 

“He faded out of existence right in front of me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

They drove in silence for a little while, broken only by Kira giving him directions towards her home. Derek was thinking about the attack tonight and what it might mean for the future. Death, he was sure of. But he couldn’t help remembering Adam’s final words. Adam had told Derek to kill him. He’d said that right before fading away completely, which made Derek wonder if maybe he would. It could be that his killing Stiles sometime in the future would be what caused Adam to fade away in the past. 

He still didn’t think he could kill Stiles. He still didn’t understand why he would. 

“How did he travel in time?” Kira asked. 

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when it happens.”

“It doesn’t sound like you know much.” 

“Not a lot,” Derek admitted. 

“Do you know what’s going to happen here?” Kira asked. “Did he tell you?” 

“Not enough. He said he was going to tell me everything but never got a chance.” 

“So you have no idea how to stop those things or if we even can?” 

“None whatsoever.” 

“In which case, I guess telling people that we’ve met Stiles from the future will just make things more confusing rather than helping?” 

Derek nodded, “Probably.” 

Plus, if he told everyone, he’d have to admit his guilt. He have to tell them that he’d known of the danger posed by the nematon and he’d said nothing. Scott trusted him now. Admitting this mistake, admitting all the secrets he’d been hiding, could destroy that trust right when Scott needed his help the most. 

"It's this house up on the left," Kira pointed. Derek pulled the car over. He expected Kira to get out, but she hesitated. 

“Bookworm’s not human, is she?” 

“No.” 

“I thought... there was a weird event a few weeks ago, right before my parents decided to move back to Beacon Hills, and I thought I saw her eyes change. At the time, I figured I’d just imagined it because it was only for a moment, but now... They looked like a snake’s eyes.” 

“I’m pretty sure she’s a dragon.” 

“Oh. So... dragons are real too?” 

“Yes. And I have it on good authority that fairies are too.” 

“Oh. So it’s not all demon ninjas and monsters?” 

“Not at all.” Derek thought about what his mother had said in the vision. “Kira, being what you are doesn’t make you a monster. Being a hero or a villain has nothing to do with what kind of creature you are. It’s about what you choose to do with whatever power you have.” 

She grinned, “You should be on a motivational poster.” 

Derek returned the smile, “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.” 

She gave a little laugh, looking much happier now than she had been earlier in the night. She climbed from the car and headed towards her house. 

***

In his loft, Derek thought about all that had happened and all that he knew. He tried to remember exactly what Adam had told him, that day that Bookworm had first read his book and called him a broken soul. He’d talked about blood on his hands. He’d said he didn’t deserve to be saved. He said that people had died because of him. 

And now there was someone here who was apparently possessed by a dark spirit. 

In the bathroom of the loft, Derek looked at the mark on his neck, the brand left by the oni. It was the same backwards five symbol that Adam had used on his wand. The same mark he’d had tattooed into his skin as part of a spell of protection. 

All these riddles led to one answer, but there was one question Derek that kept returning to his thoughts. Could he kill Stiles? 

If Stiles really was the dark spirit, if he really was about to kill people, then this was the time for Derek to go through with what Adam had asked of him. Adam had said to kill him before anyone else got killed. Derek stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He let his eyes shift and saw the blue shining back at him. 

He’d done it before. He’d killed someone he loved because she’d asked him to. He could do it again. 

He closed his eyes and leaned against the sink, letting the tears flow. He would cry now, because he couldn’t cry later. He would need to get the emotions out of the way now so that he could deal with this calmly. He couldn’t let himself feel. He couldn’t let himself think about it. He had to be like Peter. He had to be cold and calculating. 

He sobbed now, his whole body shaking from the pain of it, because when he left here, it would be to find Stiles. And to kill him.


	17. Riddled

“You spend far too much time crying,” Peter said. He was sitting calmly on the couch when Derek came out of the bathroom. Derek tried to silence him with a glare. Peter ignored it. 

“You didn’t shed a single tear about killing me,” Peter went on, “but here you are bawling like a toddler who’s lost his favourite toy.” 

“That’s because I was happy to see you dead,” Derek said. “Don’t push me now or we’ll try it again. We’ll see who wins when we’re both betas.” 

“You wound me, nephew.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” Derek snarled, looming over Peter, who still sat calmly on the couch. Derek was in no mood for Peter’s smug tone and mocking smile today. He had to do something terrible and here was Peter, acting like it was all some great joke. He was leaning back, perfectly relaxed and calm, while Derek was a furious storm of guilt and grief and anger. 

Peter smiled up at him: “Aren’t we a little beyond all these false threats and pointless –“ 

Derek punched him in the face. 

Peter didn’t block the blow, probably because he was genuinely surprised that Derek would do such a thing. He sat up a little straighter, staring at Derek with a confused look on his face, a little dribble of blood trickling down from his nose. There was even an expression that, on any other face, might have bordered on concern. 

“What’s happened?” Peter asked. 

“It’s not what’s happened, it’s what I’m going to do,” Derek answered. “I have to do something terrible but I wouldn’t expect you to understand; you’ve never experienced remorse about anything.” 

“This is why you failed as an alpha. Delegation, Derek. You have a pack. If there’s some task which you can’t do yourself because it bothers your pretty little conscience, you leave it to someone who isn’t concerned with such things.” 

“Having you kill an innocent teenager isn’t any better than doing it myself.” Derek thought it might be worse. It was certainly more cowardly. He couldn’t bear the thought of killing Stiles, but letting Peter do it for him wouldn’t absolve him of his guilt. 

“Killing an innocent kid?” Peter asked. “You shouldn’t start at that level. You build up to it, like preparing for a marathon. Start with something simpler, like drowning a few kittens.” 

Derek grabbed the front of Peter’s shirt, half-lifting him off the couch. He bent down to snarl into Peter’s face. 

“I am not finding this funny.” 

“Well I find it hilarious that after all your tedious moralising, you’ll considering murdering a kid. Please tell me it’s Scott. Are you trying to be an alpha again?” 

“It’s not Scott.” Derek let go of Peter’s shirt, letting him fall back against the couch. Derek turned away. “It’s Stiles.” 

“Stiles?” There actually was genuine surprise and possibly even worry in Peter’s voice when he said that. “But what about Adam?” 

Derek turned to look at him. He wasn’t sure how much Peter knew about Adam. He’d let a few things slip when he’d assumed Peter was comatose and he was pretty sure that Laura had done the same, but he didn’t know how much Peter knew for certain. Derek hadn’t been sure until this second that Peter knew the connection between Adam and Stiles. He supposed there was no sense in pretending at secrecy now. 

“He told me to kill him if they woke the nematon,” Derek said, “before anyone else dies.” 

“You really intend to kill him?” 

“It’s what he told me to do. He begged me to kill him to stop whatever nightmare is about to happen, and now demons are in Beacon Hills looking for someone possessed by an evil spirit.” 

“You think Stiles is the one possessed?” 

“He’s got to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense of what’s happening and what Adam told me.” 

“Are you absolutely certain?” 

Derek started to answer. Then he hesitated. He’d been certain before about Lydia being the kanima, only to learn later that she’d been immune due to being a banshee. All evidence had pointed to her but he had still been wrong and he’d nearly killed an innocent person because of it. Could he really kill Stiles if there was even once chance in a billion that he was wrong? 

“I’m certain he told me to kill him,” Derek said quietly. 

“Yes, but when has that boy ever made sensible decisions?” 

“Is this a joke to you?” Derek snarled. 

“No,” Peter said. “Not at all. You’re not going to kill Stiles.” 

“Why not?” 

“You mean aside from the fact that you’re in love with the kid?” 

Derek hated the fact that Peter knew that, hated that his emotions were so obvious to him. It made him feel weak. Stiles hated him now, after all that had happened with his father’s kidnapping. The fact that he still loved Stiles felt like a vulnerability, and one that Peter was more than happy to exploit. 

“Surely it makes more sense to try and save him,” Peter said. “Even if you’re right about him being this evil monster, which I find highly dubious, the fact that you met him as Adam proves that he can be saved. Perhaps you should focus your efforts on finding out _how_ he can be saved. Perhaps you can even do it before the deaths you’re so worried about preventing.” 

He might be right. Somehow that was worse than everything else, having to acknowledge that maybe Peter had a point. 

“Why do you care?” Derek asked. “You were offering to do my killing for me a few minutes ago?” 

“I like Stiles,” Peter said, which made Derek want to punch him in the fact again. “I have a great deal of respect for anyone who can achieve such high levels of sarcasm while under extreme pressure.” 

So Peter had cheerfully murdered his own niece but was speaking out in Stiles’ defence because he was sarcastic? That level of coldness marked a new low for Peter. 

“I can’t believe you,” Derek said. 

Peter looked hurt, “Why does everyone always assume I’m lying?”

Derek hadn’t actually been assuming that, not until right this moment. He’d been expressing a general disbelief in Peter’s attitude to killing, but Peter had taken it to be specific disbelief. That defensiveness made Derek confident that Peter had something to be defensive about. Unfortunately, Peter was too good at masking when he was lying; even werewolf senses couldn’t be relied upon for guessing whether he was telling the truth or not. 

“Why does it matter to you if Stiles dies?” Derek asked. 

“Perhaps I just want to see my dear nephew live happily ever after.” Peter smiled sweetly. Derek threw another punch, but this time Peter caught his wrist just before the fist connected with his nose. 

“I like Stiles,” Peter said again. “And I have nothing to gain from his death. Aside from seeing you miserable, but that’s not difficult to achieve.” 

Peter could be telling the truth. In his self-centred way, he could occasionally be helpful. He wouldn’t risk his life for anyone, but he might help someone out if he thought it could benefit him in the long run. He was probably interested in helping Stiles only in exchange for some future favours, but Derek could accept that for now. 

“So how do we save Stiles?” Derek asked. 

“I look into my sources of information, you look into yours,” Peter answered, “and in the meantime, we keep the others from suspecting what you suspect to buy him time for us to find an answer.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Think what they would do. _You_ were willing to kill him because of this danger. What do you think Argent or the twins or anyone else would do if they found this out? You know he can be saved; they don’t. So we need to make sure they don’t believe. Dismiss their fears, downplay the threat, pretend that you don’t believe it could be Stiles. And in the meantime, we find out everything we can about how to stop this thing.” 

Derek supposed this meant another phone call to Bookworm. 

***

“What can I help you with this time?” Bookworm asked, when Derek called. Derek paced the floor of his apartment, wondering what Bookworm would ask in payment. This was bound to cost more than just another stolen book of Stiles’. 

“I need to know how to save someone from an evil spirit,” Derek said. 

She didn’t ask him who. She just drew a shaking breath and said, “So the nogitsune has taken Stiles.” 

“I think so. How did you know?” 

“It was written in his soul,” she answered, “the layers of guilt for all the terrors that creature committed.” 

“How do I save him?” 

“Get the spirit to leave him. It’s the only way. Persuade it or trick it into leaving his body.” 

“How do I do that? How was it done before?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Derek wanted to scream down the phone. She was supposed to be this great source of knowledge but every time he needed something from her, he got nothing. 

“I see impressions, feelings. I don’t see the details. I don’t know the precise events. All I know is that he was saved.” 

“Find a way. Please.” 

“I’ll do what I can.” 

Only when the call ended did Derek realise that she hadn’t asked for anything in exchange. 

***

When Derek got the call that Stiles was missing, it was difficult not to panic. If the dark spirit had taken him, if Stiles was lost to some possessing evil, Derek didn’t know what to do. Peter had vanished somewhere and Derek wasn’t optimistic of him returning with an answer. All Derek had left was hope. Hope that Stiles could be found and that he would still be himself when he was. Hope that he could find an answer because there had to be an answer to be found. It wasn’t much. 

Hunting the hospital and the school had uncovered lots of traces of Stiles’ scent, heavy with emotion in places. Derek kept wondering if he should tell Scott, but how could he say it? What proof did he have except the word of a boy from the future whose existence he’d kept hidden for too long? For the first time, Derek wished he’d told Scott about Adam from the beginning. If he’d explained then, he could make Scott understand that situation now. But there were too many secrets. Now, if he told Scott the truth, Scott would know that Derek had been lying to him since the beginning. Scott would probably never believe another word he said. Right now, Derek needed to be at Scott’s side because this was where he could help Stiles. He hoped. 

Derek didn’t know what Stiles being missing meant. He’d phoned Scott and asked for help. That didn’t sound like the actions of an evil spirit. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps Stiles wasn’t the one possessed. 

But Bookworm had been so sure. She’d seen it in his soul. 

When the phone rang, he hoped it was her with the miracle answer. But it was Scott, with something almost as good. 

“They’ve found him,” Scott said. 

“Is he?” Derek couldn’t finish the question. His breath caught in a near sob. 

“He’s OK. They’re taking him to the hospital now to make sure. I’m heading there now.” 

“I’ll meet you there.” 

Derek hung up before Scott could argue or say that he wasn’t needed. Derek needed to be at the hospital. He needed to check that Stiles was alright. He needed to see with his own two eyes. 

He drove to the hospital, arriving just in time to watch from a distance as Scott’s parents herded Stiles inside. He was wrapped in an over-large jacket and shivering in Mrs McCall’s arms, but he was alive. 

Derek allowed himself to breathe again. He folded his arms on the steering wheel, leaned his head against them and tried not to start crying. Stiles was alive. Whatever was going on, whatever evil thing might be inside of him, he was safe for now. They would figure out a way to save him. 

***

Derek found Kira at the school. He needed to know everything he could and right now she was the best person to ask. Now they sat in his car, outside the substation where Barrow had died, talking about myths and legends. She’d heard the stories growing up, encouraged in her enjoyment of them by her mom, who must have known that she’d need this knowledge someday. 

So Kira talked to him now about zenko and yako, about ancient foxes that grew more tails as centuries passed. It all sounded like stories, but Derek knew that werewolves sounded like stories to most humans. He listened to everything she had to say, hoping there would be an answer buried in these fairy tales. 

“Some stories have ninko,” Kira said. “They’re invisible spirits that possess humans, but other stories have kitsune that can transform and take human form. What the oni are looking for might be either. It could be someone who’s just pretending to be human or it could be someone who really is, someone who’s got an evil spirit hiding inside. There might be an imposter wandering around because some stories say that kitsune can take on the appearance of anyone they want at will. So even if we think we’ve figured out who it is, it could just be the fox tricking us to try and make us hurt the human.” 

“And you don’t have any idea how to stop it?” 

“No. There are stories about kitsune being caught out because their tails show when they get drunk or injured or just careless, but those stories are about ordinary kitsune, not nogitsune. I don’t know any stories about how to stop a nogitsune.” 

“There’s got to be a way.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t know what it is,” Kira said. “I feel like I don’t know anything.” 

“Then you’ll fit in perfectly round here.” There was bitterness in Derek’s voice because right now he felt like he didn’t know anything. 

Derek leaned back against his car seat, tilting his head back and just trying to think, trying to clear the fog of fear from his mind so that he could come up with an answer. Beside him, Kira stared out of the car window at the substation. 

“I don’t suppose future-Stiles told you anything useful?” she asked. 

Derek tensed. He barely knew this girl. Still, he was fretting now about all the secrets, about the fact he’d let himself be caught in so many lies that he didn’t feel able to tell the truth to his friends. Maybe he should just come clean. For the first time in a long time, he decided that he didn’t want to hide anything. 

“Stiles is the notigsune,” Derek said. “I’m almost certain of it and people are going to die because of it. I know there’s a way to save him because Adam was saved. I just don’t know how.” 

“So what do we do?” 

Derek didn’t have a good answer for that. He knew what Peter had said, about trying to hide this for as long as possible, but that only made sense if people were going to try and kill him. He had to trust that there was one person who would never try to kill Stiles. Besides, if there was a chance that Stiles, or rather something evil inside him, was going to start killing people, then Derek had to try and stop that from happening. He had to try and keep Stiles’ hands free from blood until he found a way to save him. 

“I’m going to go talk to Scott,” Derek said. 

“What are you going to tell him?” Kira asked. 

That was another question Derek wasn’t sure about. 

“He needs to know that Stiles is the nogitsune,” Derek said. 

“But you’re not going to tell him about Adam?” 

“And say what? Knowing about Adam doesn’t tell us anything about _how_ to help him. You were right before: telling him now would just confuse him more. We don’t need Scott to be confused. We need him to be focused on saving Stiles.”


	18. Riddled (again)

Stiles was missing and had been for nearly a day. When the power went out at the hospital, he’d just vanished. Derek wished he could believe it was just sleep walking. He was starting to wonder if he should have followed through with his plan to kill Stiles before things got bad. Isaac was already in the hospital. It was a miracle no one had died. 

Derek had spent the better part of twenty four hours looking for Stiles and he’d been awake for far too long before that. Even werewolf stamina had its limits and he was exhausted. He would go back to his apartment for a few hours and sleep, then resume the search in the morning. Stiles couldn’t have vanished completely. Somewhere there would be a trace of him, a scent, something. Derek would keep looking until he found it. 

He reached the door of his apartment, hand on the handle, and he found the scent he’d been searching for all day. Stiles was here. 

Derek shifted. He didn’t know what to expect. A part of him hoped that Stiles was himself, here to ask for help with whatever was happening to him. He didn’t think that was likely though. More likely, the nogitsune was here for a fight. Derek closed his eyes and thought about the amulet around his neck. It still had power; it had helped protect him from Jennifer’s magic. It could still help him somehow if he could tap into that power. Maybe it could protect Stiles. 

Derek slid the door open. Stiles was standing by the windows, perfectly calm and still. Derek knew at once that something was wrong just from the way he stood there. Stiles was always in motion, always fidgeting, always doing something. At the very least, Stiles would be talking. The teenager who stood in front of Derek now was tranquil in a way that Stiles never was. And he smiled at Derek with a coldness that Stiles could never achieve. 

“Hello, Derek,” the nogitsune said. “Are those for me?”

He nodded down at Derek’s claws. Derek looked down. He could attack Stiles. He could rip out his throat and do what he’d meant to do earlier. He could go through with what Adam had asked of him. One stroke of his claws across the throat was all it would take. Easy. 

Derek shifted back, claws becoming fingers, wolf slipping back inside. 

“Let him go,” Derek said. 

The nogitsune walked towards him with calm, deliberate steps, the smile still on his face. 

“What’s the magic word?” he asked. 

“Please,” Derek said, the word coming out more like a growl, forced out from behind clenched teeth. He wanted to rip this creature out of Stiles but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know what he needed to do to save him. 

“I was going for abracadabra,” the thing mocked. “Better luck next time.” 

Derek seethed inside at seeing such cruelty on the face of someone who should be so kind. He wanted to make this thing hurt, to make it bleed, but he didn’t know how to do that without hurting Stiles. He stood in front of Derek, smiling into his face, within arm’s reach. It was like he was daring Derek to try something. 

“What do you want?” Derek asked. 

“Fun, of course.” 

“And what do you think is fun?” 

“Oh, the usual: pain, violence, brutal and bloody deaths. This town is going to be perfect for me.” 

“If you want bloody deaths,” Derek said, “you’ll have more luck with these.” 

Derek raised his hand, fingers extending into claws. He held them up in front of Stiles’ face. The nogitsune looked at them. There might have been a faint expression of surprise breaking through his sickly grin. 

“Are you offering yourself?” it asked. 

“Let Stiles go and you can have me. Take my body and do whatever you want to do. Just let him go. Let him live and be free.” 

The thing that wore Stiles’ face laughed. His face was inches from Derek’s, still looking him in the eye. The raised claws between them were an offer, not a threat. 

“This is precious,” the nogitsune said. “He thinks you don’t like him, but he’s wrong, isn’t he? All those times you came to him, you really were making sure he was safe. He matters to you, doesn’t he?” 

“Yes,” Derek said, another low growl, forced out. His temper was barely restrained. He needed to restrain it. This might be his only chance to save Stiles, to save him from having to live through whatever Adam lived through. 

“How much?” the nogitsune asked. “How much does he matter to you? What you willing to do? What are you willing to give?” 

“Anything,” Derek answered. “Everything.” 

The nogitsune leaned in closer. Derek didn’t move. Even though he smelled Stiles’ scent, Adam’s scent, and he wanted to take this teenager into his arms, he didn’t move. Even though he wanted to kill this creature for all that he was putting Stiles through, he didn’t move. The nogistune stretched up whisper in Derek’s ear, with a faint huff of warm breath and the gently brush of Stiles’ lips against his skin. 

“Would you beg for him?” 

“Yes,” Derek answered. “Please, let him go.” 

The nogitsune took a step back, still smiling. He shook his head. 

“Oh no,” he said. “That’s right. That’s not how to beg. Do it properly. On your knees.” 

Derek dropped to his knees without hesitation. They thumped against the wooden floor. He looked up. 

“Please,” he said again, “let him go. I beg you.” 

The nogitsune walked slowly around Derek, admiring him like a piece of art. Derek thought of all those eyes back in the club when he’d danced, looking him like an object and not a person. This was a thousand times worse. This creature was measuring him up, assessing him for his entertainment value. Rage crawled beneath Derek’s skin, but still he knelt. 

“All the times he’s wanted you like this,” the nogitsune said, “all the times he’s imagined what it would be like to have you on your knees before him, and it turns out all he needed to do was ask. I wonder if I should let him wake up, let him see.” The creature came back round to stand in front of Derek, placing a hand on Derek’s cheek in a facsimile of a caress. “Perhaps I should let him watch while I take you. I wonder which would be worse, watching you hate it as I rape you, or watching you enjoy it as you make love to his body. Which do you think will hurt him more?” 

Derek closed his eyes, trying to hold back the ocean of tears that wanted to come out. He didn’t want this monster to see him cry. 

The caress turned into a grip. Fingers dug sharply into Derek’s cheek and jaw, too sharply, too strongly. 

“Look at me!” the nogitsune screamed. Derek opened his eyes and looked up, looked back into the face of the person he loved, the face now filled with malice. 

The hand gripped tightly, fingers digging painfully into Derek’s skin. Maybe he could use that. When Jennifer had had him under her spell, he’d been broken out of it by the amulet, triggered by the touch of Stiles’ skin against his. Maybe he could make it work the other way. Maybe he could use the magic. He needed to make it work. Will, that was what Adam had talked about as being the most important component of magic, the will to see the spell through. Well he willed this with every fibre of his being. He focused on the touch of those fingers and on the constant presence of the amulet. He tried to draw the two together inside his mind. 

The nogitsune laughed. 

He let go of Derek’s face and grabbed his shirt instead, yanking it away. Cloth tore like it was nothing, leaving fragments of the t-shirt hanging from his arms and back, but the front ripped away, his chest exposed. The amulet hung above his heart, a faint silver light around the protection symbol. The nogitsune laughed again, reaching out to touch the protection sign. 

“Is this supposed to scare me?” the nogitsune asked. “You think a little magical trinket like this can stop me? You think some little wizard’s trick is a match for me?” 

There was anger and amusement mixed in a shifting mess of emotions on his face, but no recognition. He didn’t know who had made the amulet. He didn’t know the source of its power. Not that it did any good. Either the amulet didn’t have the power to stop him, or Derek just couldn’t use it right. 

“I had to try,” Derek said. “I said I’d do anything.” 

The nogitsune walked away. Derek started to turn, started to stand to go after him. 

“Uh-uh,” the nogitsune said. “Stay.” Derek sank back onto his knees, sitting back on his heels. “Good dog.” 

Derek’s fists clenched of their own accord but he didn’t move. He stared at the big window in front of him and listened to the sounds made by the nogitsune as he opened and shut drawers and cupboards. After a minute, he seemed to find what he was looking for. He returned to Derek, a sharp kitchen knife in his hands. He came and crouched down in front of Derek, holding the knife in front of his face, letting the light catch against the blade. Derek didn’t flinch away, even when the blade flashed through the air and cut a hot line of pain down Derek’s cheek. 

“I’ve never tried torturing a werewolf,” the nogitsune said. “It could be interesting, seeing how far your healing abilities will go, seeing what you could come back from.” 

He thrust the knife into Derek’s shoulder. Derek gave a cry of pain. It felt like his whole arm was on fire and the knife was the burning heart of the agony. The nogitsune twisted, but Derek bit back on the cry this time, clenching his teeth and trying to think about anything else. It seemed like the whole world had condensed down to that twisting blade, layering pain on top of pain inside his flesh. 

“And still you don’t fight back,” the nogitsune said. He yanked the knife free. Derek closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain as his blood dripped down onto the floor. 

“You don’t even try to fight me,” the nogitsune went on, “because you know that you can’t hurt me without hurting him. I could hurt you over, and over,” he punctuated his remarks by slashing deep cuts into Derek’s chest, “and you don’t dare hurt me.” 

“Hurt me any way you like,” Derek said, “just let him go.” 

“Maybe I should just kill you. Thrust this knife into your chest and cut out your heart. And then I’d let him wake up and see your body at his feet and his hands stained in your blood.” 

Derek made a low growling sound. There were no words that could match how angry he felt. He glared at the nogitsune, feeling his eyes turning as he did so. The nogitsune just smiled. 

“No,” he said, “I think it’s more fun this way.” He stabbed the knife into Derek’s thigh and stood up. “I think it’s more fun to leave you alive, knowing that you could have had him any time you wanted. All you had to do was ask, and he would have given himself to you gladly. Now you’ll never know what it would have been like to be with him.” 

The nogitsune walked past Derek towards the door. Derek turned, reaching out to grab him, to try and stop him. But he was gone. Derek was alone and bleeding in the middle of his apartment. 

He yanked the knife out of his leg and collapsed down onto the floor, waiting for the healing to kick in. He didn’t know how to save Stiles. He didn’t know how to stop that thing that was wearing his face. He didn’t know what he should do next. 

There was only one thing he did know: the nogitsune had no idea about Adam. That meant it had no idea that they could find a way to stop it.


	19. Letharia Vulpina

“OK. We’re both trying to find Stiles,” Derek said. “Mind if I ask what you plan on doing if you find him?” 

“Well that depends on which Stiles I find,” Argent answered. He reached down and grabbed the emitter off his desk. They stood together in Argent’s study. Derek remembered what Adam had told him once, about how Chris Argent was actually quite nice once he’d stopped trying to kill Derek and Scott. They’d stopped fighting now. They’d worked as reluctant allies before, so maybe it was time for Derek to be a little less reluctant about it. He could use all the help he could get. 

“Does your bestiary have anything in it about how to save someone from a nogitsune?” Derek asked. 

“No. I’ve checked. My family has tended to focus on killing things, not saving them. Besides, we’ve worked mainly across Europe and North America. The kitsune are native to Japan, Korea and other parts of Asia. As far as I’m aware, no one in my family other than me has ever faced one before. If they have, they didn’t live to tell about it.” 

“Not exactly comforting.” 

Argent looked at the emitter in his hands and then up at Derek. 

“Scott won’t want to hear this,” Argent said, “but I know that you’re willing to do what needs to be done when the circumstances call for it. We may have to face the possibility that Stiles simply can’t be saved.” 

“I know he can be saved,” Derek said. 

“How?” 

Derek wasn’t sure if Argent was asking how he knew or how he could be saved. Derek decided to answer the second one because there was no way he was answering the first. He wasn’t going to talk about Adam with Argent of all people. 

“I don’t know how,” Derek said. “I just know it can be done. I met someone once, who’d been possessed by a nogitsune at some point in his past, but by the time I knew him, he was free of it. I don’t know how he did it; he didn’t talk about the experience.” 

“So how do you know it was a nogitsune? There are other creatures that can possess or influence humans.” 

“I know. So we have to try and save him.” 

Argent turned away from Derek. He didn’t answer. Derek wasn’t sure he’d have believe it even if Argent had declared he meant to save Stiles. Argent was a hunter. That meant his default position for most of his life had been killing anything non-human that posed a threat. The fact that he would even talk about the possibility of saving Stiles was a big step for him, but Derek knew that Argent would kill if he thought he had to. 

Argent took the emitter back to a cupboard to put it away, but instead looked in surprise at a metal briefcase inside. 

***

They kept coming back to the same conversation because there really wasn’t much else to talk about. Everything came back to Stiles and the question of what should be done about him. 

“Would you feel any remorse,” Derek asked, “putting Stiles down?”

“Stiles, yes,” Argent answered. “But not a notigsune.” 

They sat in the cells of the police station, talking quietly. All Derek could think about was that he’d had his chance. Everything was happening again, the way Adam had wanted to stop. Adam had warned him that people would die and now people had died. Police officers were dead, Isaac was still in the hospital and even one of Stiles’ teachers was in critical condition. Derek had a bad feeling that this was just the start. 

“Could you do it?” Argent asked. “Could you stop him?” 

“I don’t know,” Derek answered. “I had a chance to. I suspected that he was the nogitsune before everything went to hell and I did consider killing him.” 

Somehow it was easier to talk to each other when they were separated like this, unable to look each other in the eye. He was able to say things he would never have dared say under normal circumstances. Admitting that felt like he was labelling himself as a monster. He hated that he’d even thought about it. He hated even more than he wasn’t sure he’d been wrong. If he hadn’t been so quick to let Peter talk him out of it, the threat would be over. Stiles would be dead, he’d never have the chance to become Adam, but there would be no other deaths. One person for many seemed like the sensible choice when looking at things rationally, but Derek didn’t think he was capable of rationality here. 

“Collateral damage,” Argent said, “that’s what they call it in a war. Acceptable losses. Deciding how many innocent people you’re willing to sacrifice in order to preserve the lives of a greater number of innocent lives.” 

“But it’s not about tactics or military strategies, is it? It’s about Stiles.” 

“I know.” He heard Argent sigh. “A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have even hesitated. We know it’s him. We have proof he’s taken human life. That’s all I would have needed.” 

“Thinking of him as a person rather than an animal complicates things, doesn’t it?” In other circumstances, Derek might have enjoyed seeing Argent go through this. Argent had spent so long treating werewolves as less than people, less deserving of respect or understanding. He hadn’t been as bad as Kate, who’d assumed they were all animals, but he had still taken the position that humans were somehow better than werewolves. Now he knew that werewolves were people too, capable of evil or nobility, just as much as humans. He’d had to reshape his entire worldview, seeing the monsters by their actions and not whether their eyes might glow under the full moon. 

“If there’s a way to save him,” Argent said, “I’ll help save him, but I will do what is necessary. If it comes down to stopping him, I will stop him.” 

“It’s a moot point anyway,” said Derek, looking around at bars and cell walls. “We can’t get out of here without causing a world of extra trouble for ourselves.” 

Derek wasn’t entirely sure why he was still in jail. There was no real evidence against him. He hadn’t met the murdered mobster or been involved with any of his dealings in any way. He had no motive whatsoever. There couldn’t be any evidence that Derek had been at the scene of the crime because he hadn’t been, unless maybe that was why Stiles had been in his apartment. He might have taken something of Derek’s and used it to plant false evidence. 

In fact, he must have done, because otherwise the only thing incriminating was the fact that Derek had been in Argent’s apartment when the FBI had come to arrest him. That was hardly probably cause for an arrest. 

Derek didn’t think Agent McCall could be stupid enough to think him guilty from what evidence he had. The alternative was that he was smart. He knew something major was going on, he just didn’t have the details. He’d been stabbed by one of the oni, he’d seen the deaths and the bomb and everything else, and he was making the assumption that Derek was somehow involved. He might be holding Derek on whatever excuse he could while he tried to find some better evidence to understand how the pieces all fit together. 

And in the meantime, Derek was trapped in here, uselessly, while Stiles was out there creating more chaos. 

***

Bookworm had been expecting a phone call, but she didn’t recognise the number that came up. She answered, and definitely hadn’t been expecting the voice that spoke. 

“It’s Kira,” she said. 

“Kira. This is a surprise. I’m afraid I don’t have a mail-order facility for my shop.” 

“This isn’t about books. This is about the nogitsune.” 

The surprises kept coming. So it seemed little Kira was growing up into her powers. It shouldn’t be that surprising, given that she’d felt the effects of the nematon’s awakening. In fact, that had probably helped spark her powers. She must be learning of her true nature now, and she was in the same place as Adam. 

“Are you still there?” Kira asked. 

“I’m here.”

“Derek said that you’re a dragon. That means you must know things, right? Do you know about nogitsunes?” 

“I’ve been reading. So far, there isn’t much that’s very helpful.” 

“We’ve found a scroll. It said that you can free someone from the nogitsune by changing their body, and there are werewolves here. So if a werewolf bites him, will that set him free?” 

“No!” Bookworm answered almost before the question was finished, a wave of fear flowing through her. “A person can’t be both a fox and a wolf. If he is bitten by a werewolf while still possessed by the nogitsune, both of them will die.” 

“But the scroll,” Kira began. 

“Change the body,” Bookworm said. “As is ‘exchange.’ All the research I’ve done says that a person can be saved from possession only when the nogitsune is tricked or persuaded into leaving the host and taking a new form. I can’t find anything about forcing such a change.” 

“How the hell do we trick a trickster?” 

“I wish I knew.” 

When they ended their call, Bookworm took her time to get one of Adam’s books from its place on the shelf and slowly begin reading it from the beginning again, reassuring herself of his presence. There was a way to save him, she knew that. More than that, she knew he would be saved. He was the closed circle. He was ouroboros. What had happened to Adam would happen to Stiles. Somehow, Derek would find a way to save him. 

She just didn’t know how.


	20. The Fox and The Wolf - The Divine Move

“Our enemy’s not a killer,” the sheriff said. “It’s a trickster. The killing is just a bi-product.” 

“If you’re trying to say it won’t kill us, I’m not feeling too confident about that,” Derek said. 

“It won’t. It wants irony. It wants to play a trick. It wants a joke. All we need to do is come up with a new punchline.” 

“Well the sun is setting, sheriff,” Argent said. “What do you have in mind?” 

The sheriff looked down at the chessboard with a sigh. He didn’t appear about to spout new insights and ideas. For all his words about tricks and jokes, he looked lost. 

“It’s not just about catching him,” Derek said, “it’s about persuading him to choose another host, or to create a new body. Kira told me about kitsunes and she said that they can copy people, not just possess them. We have to find a way to convince the nogitsune that it would be more fun to leave Stiles.” 

“Do you have any ideas on how to do that?” Argent asked. 

Derek thought. When he’d spoken to the nogitsune, he’d only been interested in having fun, in his own, twisted way. “We have to make it so that he can’t do any harm as he is. If we can trap him somehow or make him helpless, he’ll decide that leaving Stiles would be better than boredom.” 

“OK, but how?” this time it was Allison who asked. Derek frowned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, dialling the now-familiar number. 

“Kanima venom on a nogitsune,” he asked, the instant Bookworm answered the phone, “will it work?” 

“Hmm. Probably,” she answered. 

“Probably?” 

“Kanimas are rare and nogitsune are rarer,” Bookworm said. “I’ve never come across a situation where they’ve come up against each other. Probably is the best you’re going to get.” 

“But do you think it will work?” 

“It’s worth trying, but it’s entirely possible that he’ll kill you if the attempt doesn’t work.” 

“He’s likely to kill us anyway.” 

Derek hung up. Everyone else was staring at him. 

“Do we have a plan?” the sheriff asked. 

“We have half a plan,” Derek answered. 

“That’s better than no plan. Let’s go.” 

***

“I still don’t see how this is going to help,” Kira said. She placed another piece on the board, where black and white pebbles were marking their territories. There were many things she would rather be doing right now than playing board games. People were in danger and the nogitsune was still out there. Yet here she was, sitting across the go board from her mom. 

“You need to learn to out-think your enemy. You need to see how he would lay his moves.” 

“But moves on the board aren’t the same as moves in real life. Even if I could win this game, it doesn’t mean I’ll know how to defeat him.” 

“Strategic thinking is always a useful skill to practice. You need to look at the wider situation and try to think several moves ahead, try to think about all the possible moves your opponent might make.” 

“Moves like planting bombs or framing people for murder? How is claiming territory going to help with that?” 

Her mom picked up a piece and held it in her fingers. She looked at it carefully. She looked down at the board, where there were lines and rectangles marked out by the stones. 

“What are the territories here?” she asked. 

Kira stared at the board. She thought about the nogitsune’s actions up to this point. 

“It’s not about physical territory,” Kira said. “He hasn’t tried to take control of anywhere. He’s blown places up and set traps, but it’s not been about places. It’s been about people. Not just Stiles but the twins and Derek and Isaac: he’s been trying to control people.” 

Her mom nodded, “And if you go running about in a panic, you are letting him control you too. Quiet and calm are required for strategy.” 

“But if I do nothing, I’m not on the board. I’m just one of these.” Kira grabbed a handful of stones from the bowl and let them fall back in with a clatter. 

“But if you rush in unprepared, you will just give your opponent more opportunities.” 

Kira finally snapped. She was sick of hearing her mom talk so calmly about all these things that she’d kept hidden, things Kira now needed to know. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be unprepared if you’d told me the truth!” 

Her mom looked away. She placed her hands on the table, one on either side of the board, and stared at the arrangement of pieces there and sighed. She looked older than Kira could remember seeing her. She looked tired. 

“Perhaps I should have told you sooner,” she said. “I thought I was protecting you. What you are sets you apart from others. I didn’t want you to feel different until you had to be.” 

“Well how did you think I was going to feel when I found out I wasn’t like everyone else and I had no idea what was going on?” 

“I’m sorry. I thought it was for the best.” She really did look older, which was weird, given the photograph from the war, where she’d looked barely older than Kira was now despite being centuries old. 

“So you pretended to be normal?” Kira said. “Did that include pretending to age? Because you don’t look like that photo anymore.” 

She sighed again, then said, “My age is not a pretence. It’s part of the price.” 

“Price?” 

“Kira, in those stories I told you when you were younger, there are tales of kitsune marrying humans and having children, but the stories never include the whole truth. It is no easy thing for a fox to have a child with a human. Life cannot come without cost. I used up some of my life force by conceiving you.” 

Of all possible answers, Kira hadn’t expected this. A knot of tension formed in the pit of her stomach, a little lump of guilt lurking down there. Her mom was older because of her. 

“Does this mean you’ll die sooner because of me?” 

“I made an arrangement to ensure your birth,” her mom said. “It took power and it took help from someone more knowledgeable than me. It may make my death come sooner, but even if my death comes tomorrow, I won’t regret it. I’m proud to have you as my daughter and grateful that you came into this world from me.” 

***

Allison didn’t have much family left but she had plenty of friends. They gathered around the grave, standing here while some priest muttered words that meant nothing. Scott’s pack was there, and the sheriff. Lydia of course, and a bunch of people from the school, some of whom Derek recognised but others who were complete strangers to him. Even that damn Agent McCall had decided to come. Derek stood alongside so many others and let the words of the priest’s prayers wash over him without hearing them. 

Ethan was there, Danny holding his hand discretely as they watched the coffin being lowered to the ground. Scott and Isaac stood side-by-side, united in their grief. And there was Stiles, looking as pale and tired as when the nogitsune had been walking around draining energy from him. 

Derek wasn’t sure he should be here. He wasn’t sure he belonged. He and Allison had never exactly been friends, largely on account of their family histories. It felt right to say his respects but he couldn’t drown out the tidal wave of guilt which told him that this was all his fault. He could have stopped this from the start if he’d just done what Adam had asked of him. If Derek had followed through and killed Stiles, then Allison and Aidan and all those others would still be alive. 

But looking at Stiles now, Derek couldn’t help but feel glad Stiles was still alive. That just made the guilt worse, because it meant he was glad, even just a little bit, that the others had died. 

When the ceremony was done, people drifted away towards the wake, which was being held at Derek’s loft because it was larger. Derek didn’t know what had possessed him to make that offer. 

Stiles lingered by the grave, looking at the fresh earth. He didn’t look like he was planning on moving anytime soon, so Derek went up to him. It would be their first real conversation in a long time, since Stiles had told Derek to get out of his life. Now that he stood next to him, Derek didn’t know what to say. So he reached out and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles didn’t even look round to see who was standing next to him; he just kept staring at the headstone with Allison’s name engraved in it. 

“This is my fault,” Stiles said quietly. 

“No,” Derek told him. 

"It is. The nogitsune got me…” 

“So blame the nogitsune.” 

"But if I hadn't..." 

“No,” Derek said, cutting him off. “None of this was your fault. None of it.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because I know it’s not your fault.” Derek knew because it was his fault. Stiles had only performed the ritual that awakened the nematon because Derek hadn’t helped him find it. Stiles had only been able to kill those people because Derek hadn’t done what had been asked and killed him. Derek was the one to blame. 

***

Derek didn’t last long at the wake before he felt the overwhelming urge to escape the mass of people. Unfortunately, it was at his home, so he couldn’t easily leave. So, he went up to the roof, sitting down in the evening air, watching the sky change to sunset colours. He tried not to think about everything he’d done to screw this up. It was a long list. 

It was getting dark when the door opened and someone came out to join him. 

“I figured you might be out here,” the sheriff said. Derek said nothing. It hadn’t been a question and Derek couldn’t think of anything suitable to say. He glanced at the sheriff, and then turned back to look at the purpling clouds on the horizon. The first stars were beginning to show overhead. 

The sheriff came over and sat down beside Derek. They stared at the growing night in silence for a few minutes. 

“I wanted to thank you,” the sheriff said. 

“What?” Derek turned to look at him, too surprised to say anything more coherent. 

"For everything you did while we were fighting to nogitsune, for the way you helped Stiles.” 

Derek looked at the sheriff, then he looked down to see if he was wearing his gun right now. He wasn’t. 

“I was planning on killing him at one point,” Derek said. 

"I figured as much." 

“Then how the hell can you thank me?” Derek’s voice rose to almost a shout. He looked away, trying to get himself back under control. 

"It was your idea with the kanima venom that let us stop him, and you could have taken advantage of that moment. You could have killed him when he was helpless.” 

“It’s Scott you should be thanking,” Derek said, “and Stiles himself. He figured out that thing’s final trick.” 

“I have thanked Scott, but I wanted to thank you too. I know you and Stiles have never really got on…” 

He trailed off when Derek started laughing sadly. Derek thought of the words the nogitsune had told him, about how he could have had Stiles at any time. He thought of Adam and the way they’d been together. Stiles thought Derek didn’t like him and Derek didn’t have the faintest idea how to convince him otherwise, but he would try. He would make it his mission from now on to make sure Stiles knew he was loved and wanted… and protected.

"I care about Stiles," Derek said, "a lot. If he needs help, if he's in danger, I will protect him. You don't have to thank me and if he’s in danger again, just ask for my help and I’ll be there. I’ll protect him with my life. No matter what.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Hey, Stiles, time to wake up,” Scott’s voice burst through the pleasant haze of near-sleep. Something hit Stiles in the head, but it was something soft, so Stiles just kept his eyes closed and burrowed into it. Sleep was good. Sleep was one of those precious things that was never fully appreciated until it wasn’t available. Now that Stiles could sleep again, he would enjoy every moment of it, despite annoying best friends. 

“Come on, Stiles. Get up,” Scott continued. He tugged at the covers. Stiles moved just enough to get a good grip on them and hold tight. Scott wasn’t going to get them off him without ripping them. 

“It’s summer,” Stiles complained. “Getting up is optional.” 

Scott leaned over the bed and said, “Mysterious sightings of strange creatures in the woods.” 

A moment later, Stiles pushed aside the thing Scott had thrown at him, which turned out to be a t-shirt, so he could look at Scott. 

“What kind of strange creatures?” Stiles asked. 

“I don’t know yet. Deaton called as said he’d heard a couple of people talking. It could be a rogue omega or it could be something weirder. That’s why we’re going to investigate.” 

Stiles pushed himself up on his elbows, “I’m surprised you didn’t ask Derek.” 

“He’s not answering his phone.” 

“Ethan?” 

“Fishing trip with Danny, which I’m absolutely certain is a euphemism so there is no way in hell that I’m interrupting them today.” 

“So I’m your third choice?” Stiles asked. He wasn’t actually annoyed about that. It made sense that if there was a potential supernatural threat that Scott would go to the people with supernatural abilities. He wasn’t sure what good he could possibly be if the thing in the woods turned out to be something dangerous, even if he did have a new baseball bat that Derek have given him. 

“Come on, Stiles,” Scott said. “You and me chasing unknown monsters in the woods? It’ll be just like old times.” 

And Stiles knew he had to get up and do this. Things hadn’t been the same since Allison’s death, since all of the mess with the nogitsune. They’d all been grieving, each with their own separate guilts and pains, but Scott had held his first girlfriend in his arms while she’d died. It would take a long time for him to recover from that. Maybe he needed a little time with just the two of them together, like in the days before this craziness had taken over their lives and the whole town. 

“Give me ten minutes to get dressed,” Stiles said. 

“Five,” Scott countered. “I’ll be downstairs.” 

Stiles climbed from the bed, pulled on some clothes and met Scott by the front door. Scott had come over on his bike but there was no way Stiles was getting on the back of that thing. Motorbikes terrified him more than werewolves and he didn’t have the ability to heal if they got into a crash. Stiles insisted that they take the jeep. 

“So do we have a description of the things in the woods?” Stiles asked. 

“Furry,” Scott answered. 

“Furry? That’s what we’ve got? No indication of size, shape, scariness?” 

Scott shook his head to all three. 

“So we’ll be going in with as much information as we always have,” Stiles said. “Awesome.” 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be,” Scott said. “I can go find Derek and get him to help.” 

“Nope. I’m coming. You’re going to need someone doing the research if this turns out to be a threat.” 

Stiles parked up the jeep on the edge of the nature preserve. Time to see what latest supernatural thing was invading Beacon Hills. 

***

Derek woke slowly. His chest was still painful and his nostrils were filled with the scent of his own blood. He was pretty certain he was actually awake this time because pain in dream didn’t tend to be this… painful. He sat up on the floor of his loft and looked down at the already-healing wound left by the shotgun blast. He didn’t think there had been wolfsbane or anything like that in the shot, so he’d be fine soon. 

Or he might never be fine again. How the hell had Kate been here? How the hell was Kate alive again? More to the point, what the hell was Kate now? She hadn’t been a werewolf. She’d been something else entirely, something Derek had never seen before. 

Derek made it as far as standing. The pain was beginning to fade but the confusion wasn’t. Kate was dead. They’d buried her. Maybe whatever had attacked him was something using her face, taking on her image. If the nogitsune could make a copy of Stiles, it was possible that other creatures could come back in the shape of someone who’d died. It didn’t mean she was actually… her. 

Derek needed to talk to Scott. He needed to figure this out. 

He pulled out his phone and saw three missed calls from Scott and a text message. Derek opened the message. _Something(s) furry spotted in woods. Going to look with Stiles._

For a moment, Derek felt like time had stopped, like his heart had stopped beating. It was such a short message, but it carried weight Scott couldn’t have known about. Everything with Adam started when Scott and Stiles went to investigate rumours of strange creatures being seen in the woods outside Beacon Hills. It was about to happen all over again. Stiles would stumble on the wand, he’d pick it up, and he’d go back in time. Then he’d be gone and Derek would be all alone again. 

He couldn’t let that happen. 

Whatever was going on here with Kate or whatever that had been, Derek couldn’t let this happen to Stiles. He couldn’t lose him again. 

He raced down from his apartment towards his car. He most have broken every speed limit on the way over but all he could think was that he had to stop Stiles. He had to get there before Stiles picked up the wand. 

He parked up behind Stiles’ jeep and ran into the woods, following Stiles’ scent. It didn’t take him long to hear the sounds of battle going on ahead. He crashed through the undergrowth, cutting the straightest path even if it meant ripping apart anything in his way. He pounded through the trees and then he saw them. Scott and Stiles were waging an ineffectual battle against some flying, furred creatures that Derek had once seen in a picture in one of Bookworm’s books. Then he saw Stiles, picking up a length of wood from the earth. Pure terror engulfed him. 

“Stiles! Don’t touch that!” Derek yelled. 

Stiles turned to look at him, confusion written across his face. Then he swung the wand at the nearest of the creatures and Derek saw the symbols carved into wand take on a faint golden glow. 

Derek stood in his tracks, frozen by the fear inside. He watched as that golden glow grew brighter, flowing down the length of wood into Stiles’ arms, shining out from behind Stiles’ eyes. Then Stiles blinked and the golden light was gone, leaving only confusion. Derek stared at him, and saw the edge of a black line of tattoo ink showing where his jacket had ridden up at the wrist. 

Derek could hardly breathe. He hardly dared hope. 

“Adam?” he asked. 

***

The power was like a light inside, shining out of the darkness. Bookworm heard her books whispering in recognition when it came, a surge that rose up through the channels of energy. She had felt the power of the nematon awakening but that could not compare to this raw surge of magic, streaming out along the currents and through the entire world. Everyone with even a spark of magic in them would feel something at this. 

And Bookworm recognised the taste of the power as if flowed through her. She laughed from the sheer joy of it, from the dizzying rush of power and from the knowledge that her time had come. 

She picked up the phone to call Noshiko. The message was short and simple: it was time. 

When the phone call was over, Bookworm went into the backroom of her shop and gathered the empty boxes she had ready there. It was time to pack up her hoard. It was time to go to Beacon Hills. 

**The end of So Near and Yet So Far.**   
**To be continued in Ouroboros**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of this part of the trilogy. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this and for all of the great comments. I was rather worried with this part that people wouldn't enjoy it as much because I was following canon events. I'm really glad to see from the comments that some people have really enjoyed this - particularly after one reader commented and told me that he/she would never read anything I've written ever again because I killed off Laura in the first story. It's really reassuring that you've stuck with the story this far. 
> 
> I'll start posting the third instalment soon. Very soon. :)


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